


Burned Soul

by kalinebogard



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha - Freeform, Alpha Scott, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta Derek, Comedy, Digamma, Fluff, Kidnapping, M/M, Mates, Rescue, Sheriff Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, Sourwolf Derek Hale, Stiles Saves The Day, Stiles is Part of the Pack, Terror, Werewolves Fighting, beta, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalinebogard/pseuds/kalinebogard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a man who has lost everything, but he has the chance to be happy with Stiles.</p><p>Aberline is a man who does not hesitate to take what he wants, even if it means destroying the happiness of others. </p><p>Stiles is allowed to decide their fate. What will he choose? To give up his love and be free, or to say goodbye to everything he knows? Painful choices are to be made, but maybe he will consider a third option...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna say "thank you" to my bunny, I mean, my beta YouJustGotPitchSlapped, for helping me with this fanfic. Thanks for save me! :3

“OW!”

Pain shot through the fingertips of Stiles’ fingers as he blew them. The toast was on the floor. Counting slowly to ten, he picked up the toast and tossed it onto a plate, happy to have accomplished the small task without third degree burns. 

Stiles placed the dish on the table and spread grape jam over one toast with a butter knife, and then spread the other with a generous layer of peanut butter. Those were his. 

He was almost finished with his first slice of peanut butter covered toast when the sheriff entered the kitchen. 

“Good morning, son.”

“Mffm mmm.” Stiles mumbled, his mouth full of bread so his answer was not understandable. 

“Today is the day you visit San Francisco's Museum?” John asked. 

“Mhm!”

“Be careful out there.”

“Dad, don’t worry.” Stiles managed to swallow the toast. “The Museum is huge, and has loads of visitors and all my friends will be with me. It’s not like some supernatural creature is gonna attack us...”

John sighed and poured himself some coffee before shaking his head.

“That's not what I meant. Stiles, the museum you will be going to is full of works of art that are priceless. Do not get close to the frames, sculptures or vases of ancient ceramic-”

The boy was indignant.

“-I won’t break anything, dad! I’m not that clumsy. It's not like I’m Percy Jackson and- and all the important art pieces are in showcases of alarm guarded glass.” 

“Okay, son. Just be careful.”

“I can do that,” Stiles smiled, getting up from the table and clenching the unfinished toast between his teeth. He was late.“Take care as well.”

He barely heard his father’s response. Walking out the kitchen door, he headed towards his jeep to find Derek Hale leaning against the blue vehicle. 

“Hey Derek. Please don’t be here just to tell me to be careful at the Museum, ok?” Stiles approached the wolf, his mood being uplifted just from the sight of Derek, and Derek could feel the happiness radiating off the boy. “I promise I’ll keep at least 50 feet between me and the displays. Or even better, I won’t go into the rooms.”

Derek opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by peanut butter toast being shoved in his mouth. 

“Anyway, good morning.” 

“Good morning to you too.” The werewolf replied, biting into the toast. Derek removed it from his mouth and held it in his hand, then looked like he was going to lean in, until Stiles felt very uncomfortable. Derek knew why. 

The two had been together, romantically speaking, for almost a week. Everything was very new for both of them and Stiles felt uncomfortable with PDA. He almost died of shame when they kissed in public. The word ‘boyfriend’ still made him blush. 

“Enjoy your day.” Stiles said as he slid into the car seat and slammed the door shut. “All of your werewolf buddies will be on the trip. Beacon Hill is all yours...but-”

Stilinski couldn’t finish his sentence. With supernatural speed, Derek was at his side faster than you could click your fingers, holding Stiles’ neck with his free hand to steal a peanut butter flavored kiss.

“Let’s go out tonight.” Hale suggested upon their separation. “After you return from your trip.”

“A- A date?” the teenage stuttered. 

“Yes. A date.” The werewolf confirmed. 

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” Stiles nodded breathlessly, having still not recovered from the unpredicted kiss and invite. “Our first romantic dinner under the moonlight, sour wolf.” Stiles grinned. 

“Eight?” Derek asked, ignoring the nick name.

“That’s good. It’ll give me time for the tour.”

“Take care...”

“Don’t worry about anything. There are three wolves and a banshee to protect me.” He pointed out. 

“Stiles, that’s not what I meant.” Despite the previous warning, Hale felt obliged to make sure his boyfriend understood. “There will be works of art worth millions there. If you break something-” 

“I’ve already heard this speech! Where does everyone get the idea that I’m clumsy? More of this, and there will be no date tonight.” Stiles threatened, twisting his keys into the car to start it. 

Derek did not answer. He simply took a step back to make space for his boyfriend to maneuver himself out of the driveway after taking another bite of the toast in his hand. Stiles sped off out of sight. 

Derek then nodded towards the kitchen window; where he knew his in-law, the sheriff Stilinski discreetly peeked through the gap in the curtains. The relationship between Derek and Stiles was unusual for everyone. No matter what angle you looked at it from, it was still weird.

...

Upon arriving at school, Stiles noticed the sophomores were out of the building, forming small groups near two yellow buses. The tradition had continued for generations: each year the sophomores did a tour of the Museum of San Francisco and spent the day analyzing various works of art.

Scott and Kira approached. 

“Hey dude!” Scott greeted, standing beside his motorcycle. Stiles approached. Scott’s backpack was hung around his shoulder as he greeted the newcomer. 

“Hi Kira. Dude...” Stiles nodded hello. 

I need you to cover for us.” MacCall requested. 

“What? Why?!” 

The young Alpha smiled suspiciously, and exchanged an even more suspicious smile to the Japanese descendant. Now, Scott had the ability to control his inner wolf well, even in full moon, so he no longer feared what could happen if he stayed with the girl. 

“We’re not going to San Francisco Stiles. I want to take Kira out and spend the day with her...”

“But Scotty...” the human whined, “We’ve waited for this day since we got to high school!” Scott gave him a skeptical look. “Fine, okay, I’ve waited for this day.” Stiles sighed. “Do what you gotta do, champ. Have fun bro.”

“Thank you so much dude.” 

“No probs’.” Stiles smiled as he watched his friend and new romantic interest exited the school, pushing the motorcycle in order to remain undetected. Apparently nobody bothered to look for them. 

“At least I still have Isaac...” he mused, “oh, look. The same Isaac who is currently sitting in Allison’s car...not stopping. Ugh, great. Another couple who will skip class. Absolutely perfect.”

Finstock, the coach began to call out students by name, reading them out from the sheet attached to his clipboard. Gradually, teenagers began entering their designated buses. Finstock would be responsible for one bus, along with another teacher, and another duo would be responsible for the other vehicle. 

“Stilinski, on Bus One. And do not go anywhere near the showcases, as you will be the one paying for anything you break.” Finstock continued to call out other names. 

 

Stiles didn’t bother to reply. It would be waste of breath. He heard his name, but didn’t enter the bus, since he knew which of his friends would be in which car. In the end, none of his friend were called out: Lydia, Danny, of the twins. He sighed and entered the bus. Stiles understood that everyone had planned couples day, avoiding the trip if their parents hadn’t agreed with it.

As he hopped on board, he seriously considered sending a text to Derek to ask for his boyfriend to meet him at the Museum, but he soon changed his mind. The journey was long and tedious. It would be unfair to do that to Hale, as he probably already had plans for the day. 

Since several students were absent, there were plenty of free seats. Stiles chose a seat near the back and threw his backpack on the closest seat, so he was sitting beside the window. He then grabbed his phone, looking forward to spending the next few hours entertaining himself with video games or updating social websites. He didn’t bother with the battery, the charger could be plugged in at the Museum’s indoor restaurant. 

He had been previously looking forward to the ride, being anxious and exited, but now he was just bored. He would just have to walk along through the Museum. How annoying.

But on the bright side, there was the promised date with his boyfriend. Thinking about it made Stiles’ heart beat speed up and his face turn a light shade of red. So, to distract himself on his journey he began to count how many seconds would pass until he went on his date. 

Unfortunately for Stiles, he didn’t know that fate had very different plans for him.

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live in Brazil and have never visited the Museum of San Francisco.  
> I'm using both my imagination and Internet information to write this. And my Beta's help, sure :3

The place was splendid, to say the least. With so many things to see Stiles was amazed.

Soon after receiving rules and instructions from the trip teachers he was separated from his group when he thought it would be better to walk around alone.

It was almost as if it was karma. With ease he maneuvered through the various reinforced glass cases protecting the detailed ceramics from the world. But thinking about it, Stiles knew that with one swing of a sledgehammer he could smash through the glass, and probably the art as well. Then again, Stiles wouldn’t be able to lift a sledgehammer. 

Just in case he straightened his backpack. If he bumped into anything...well he didn’t even want to think about the consequences. 

He spent some time walking around, diverting the flow of tourists coming from all over, not just the state, county, country, but also oversea. Stiles recognized some languages used by the tourists. 

A set of Chinese ceramics in particular caught his attention. The data on the showcase said it was made over a thousand years ago. The amazing feeling was undeniable: trying to imagine people living so long ago, shaping the clay in a certain way then setting it out in the sun to let it dry and turn hard, and then it would be sent to artists to paint the patterns. They probably would have used the coolest utensils ever, Stiles thought.

A thousand years ago. 

He scrutinized each of the pieces of art and learned the history behind them. Even standing alone, he did not regret going to the Museum. 

As there was much to be seen and little time to spare, Stiles followed the signs and headed for the Paintings sections. He desperately wanted to see at least a bit of every ward. 

Stiles strolled trough the halls and admired the paintings without noticing any in particular. He wasn’t exactly an expert on art. He would have taken some pictures, but unfortunately the rules of the place were clear. No photos, especially with phones. Plus he didn’t want to get caught, which was a rather large possibility considering there were cameras screwed to every corner and guards standing at every doorway. He even tried a few times, slipping the phone out of his pocket and selecting the camera app whenever a guard looked away, but he gave up. He wasn’t sneaky enough to not get caught and he really wanted to remain in the museum.

It was approaching lunchtime when we arrived at a corner of the exhibitions, that despite the large influx of visitors, was empty, save for one man who stood in front of a painting, admiring. 

Stiles’s curiosity was sparked. Glancing one side to the other he decided to see what had scared everyone away. He approached the lone man, who suddenly stepped away from him. Stiles thought nothing of it, then returned to staring at the painting.

“Makes sense...” Stiles muttered.

Hearing the mysterious phrase the stranger changed his mind and stood still, quiet. He turned to the teenager, frowning slightly.

“Excuse me?”

Stiles grinned at the man. He looked old enough to be his father, his straight hair perfectly coiffed, deep eyes and thin tight lips forming a harmonious whole that matched the warm face. Stilinski did not need to be an expert in the fashion world to know that every piece of clothing he was wearing must have cost at least $100 each, from the cut perfection and fabric quality. 

“That,” Stiles said, pointing to the painting, “Is awful. It scares me too.”

The two returned their gaze to the painting. On the mantlepiece, was a small white card, which was inked with the words:

  
_Burned Soul_   
_by_   
_Lubich d’Fiore_   


Stiles had never heard of the painter. The rationality of the work was almost palpable. The painter seemed familiar with emotions such as grief, fear, sorrow, and dismay.

“It doesn’t scared me.” The man spoke somewhat thoughtful. His voice was deep, almost husky.

“If it wasn’t the painting... then it must of been me who scared you. Why else would run away? Really really fast might I add!” Stiles chuckled.

The other man looked at the boy standing next to him and nodded. The shadow of a smile framed his fine lips for the first time in that conversation.

“Excuse me lad. I don’t wanna sound offensive or anything, but you are not exactly what I would call...scary.”

“Don’t let the lanky appearance fool you. I am very dangerous.”

“Of course,” the oldest man said, clearly amused now. Stiles could hear the sarcasm dripping off his words. “I was thinking about this painting. D'Fiore was very successful in his intent to cause revulsion and terror in those who admired the work. He makes us see that we have many dark elements in ourselves. Elements whose mere existence causes us to fear looking in the mirror and recognize. To see the dark elements targeting us.”

Stiles ran a hand through his hair as he glanced back to review the exposed painting. He held his chin with his fingers, bringing a very analytical air around him. The posture amused the older man further. He wondered how the teenager would fare hitting a critical comment.

“I don’t know...” Stilinski mumbled. “I think a work of art should be analyzed from several perspectives.”

“What do you mean?” The adult struggled not to laugh at the evasive answer.

Stiles gestured with his hands trying to emphasize what he meant.

“You say that the work causes revulsion and I agree. But maybe his intention is not to make us realize that we have these elements, maybe something like-”

“Like...?”

The boy laughed sheepishly.

“Sounds like a cry for help.” Stiles said somewhat bland. “As if the author does not know how to ask for help and painting was the way he could reach out and ask. Hoping someone could see behind the walls of being a rich painter and see the suffering he felt, as his soul was...well, burned.”

The man’s jaw dropped open. Astonishment was written on his face, but Stiles took it the wrong way, as he was worried that his speech was utter bullshit. “I don’t, uh know anything about art. What I said doesn’t make sense-”

“On the contrary,” He butted in. The man stared at the painting, but in a new light. “It was brilliant.” 

“Brilliant? Really?” Stiles gawked.

“By the way, my name is Francis Aberline.” 

“You can call me Stiles.”

“You are a very sensitive young boy, Mr. Stiles. You’ve made me see things from a different perspective that I’ve never even considered having before.”

Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged nervously. He found ways to express the pain he carried, by interpreting things in different ways, his view on his life. If he spoke the raw, harsh truth, the hurt would feel real, but he found ways to express his “Burned Soul”, and gradually, he managed to control his panic attacks, and feel safe. Safe with Derek. 

“Have you strayed from the pack?”

The question snapped Stilinski out of his thoughts and made him furrow his eyebrows in utter shock and confusion. 

“I don’t get-”

“Teens,” Aberline smiled slightly, “that I know always travel in groups.”

“Oh, of course. Right, yeah you were talking about...my friends...yep.” Stiles stuttered, blinking rapidly. 

“What did you think I was talking about?” The man launched a thorough look at his conversational partner. It bothered Stiles. 

“Is just me or do you have a slight British accent?” Stiles asked, dodging the question with a blatant change of subject, amusing Aberline. 

“I have traveled a lot around the world, but I believe it is not enough to miss the accent of my home. Yes, I was born and raised in London, although England was never a permanent home for me.”

“It’s hard to tell. Only if you pay close attention can you hear the British,” The boy brushed it off with a shrug. 

“That means you are a very good observer, Mr. Stiles.” He smirked.

Stilinski felt his face heat up. The man, possibly old enough to be his father was flirting with a high school kid. 

“No... I-I actually I have Attention Deficit Diso-... I-I need to go now-”

“Wait. It's almost lunchtime. Maybe you wanna to extend our conversation about artworks a little more and give me the pleasure of your company.” Aberline suggested. 

Stiles shook his head quickly. Suddenly felt an urge to sprint away. Almost like an instinct that warned him of the cultured, educated, well dressed, and apparently harmless man’s dangerousness. 

“Er, well, I- need to uh, not sure if... You know, my friends are waiting for me. Bye.” Stiles span on his heel quickly and walked out of the mostly empty room. Stiles didn’t really understand the need to flee. What’s so bad about a man taking a pass at him? It’s not his fault and it’s not like Derek would fight him. 

Oh yeah, Stiles remembered. 

First, Francis is twice his age. 

Second, he has a boyfriend.

Third, Aberline is a complete stranger, possibly a psychopathic killer for all he knows.

...

A smile ghosted Francis Aberline’s lips as he observed the young boy scuttle away. It was obvious the boy had lied.

Ah, it had been so many years since he had last felt the emotion of amusement from a simple conversation. Aberline had almost forgotten what it felt like. And the surprising conversation with Stiles had sparked a feeling he had never experienced before, although deep inside, his subconscious knew very well what it was. 

Now, he was snared into an unexpected, unescapable trap. His wolf would not allow it. Just like the boy would not allow him to escape.

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles acknowledged some of the students in his class in the restaurant, but he avoided them all. He chose a table tucked away in a corner beside an outlet, that was -Thank God- available. The food was delicious, so he decided he wanted a second serving while he charged his phone. He shot a quick text to Scott and Derek, but he didn’t get a reply from either of them. Not a surprise, but Stiles still felt a little sad. 

After lunch, feeling incredibly heavy and slow, Stiles concluded that the tour was not as fun as he thought it would be. All he wanted was to sit for a while. But if he did, he would fall asleep quicker than you could say ‘sleep’. 

He then wandered through the museum and crossed the sculptures gallery. A particular sculpture that caught his eye was “The Medusa”, which, after closer inspection left him feeling creeped out. The marble had so much emotion carved into it, that the eyes looked alive and aimed directly at Stiles. At least he felt it did. He had a strong sensation of being watched, yet no one appeared to be giving a damn about the teenager.

Maybe it was just the statue.

That was the only time that Stiles broke the rules. With his heart pounding he waited for the guard to be distracted by answering the questions of a woman, and the security camera to twist away. He whipped out his cell phone and captured a good image of gray marble.

He breathed in, relief washing over him, then he returned to his phone to the safety of his pocket. 

Later he steered towards the painting gallery. The area seemed dedicated to works made in the Renaissance. They were beautiful works of art, but Stiles wanted to see more of the Enlightenment.

Bored, he went searching for the next area to study, but frowned when he realized he was pretty far away from his initial destination. The Museum of San Francisco was way too big! Stiles huffed, deciding to give up and sauntered over to the nearest gallery: The Ceramics. 

There he met with Jared. The young teenager had joined a group tour and absorbed the guide’s explanations like a thirsty man in the desert finding water.

Stiles didn’t feel nerdy at all. 

As it was nearly three o'clock and the return time was four, Stilinski decided to leave the Museum and get back to the bus for a quick rest. Exhausted, he was concerned he could no longer walk if he continued traveling through the Museum. However it would be great if he could continue through the museum. It would make him very happy. 

The parking lot was packed, school buses with signs of various parts of the United States filled the once empty spaces.

It took some work to find where the coach driver parked the college of Beacon Hills vehicle.

“Holy God, it seems like paradise!” Exclaimed the boy, raising his arms to the sky happily. Drivers from outside stopped talking and laughed at the scene.

“You are the second to say that,” a man said amusedly as he gestured toward the open door. 

Stiles entered the bus and saw a girl fast asleep, resting her head against the window. He remembered her from either History or Economy class, but no name came to mind.

Stiles passed her and went straight to the back of the bus. He settled down with a sigh. His legs were heavy and his feet hurt. Hungry, he pulled out a chocolate bar from his backpack, ripped open the wrapper and began to eat.

After finishing his snack, he picked up his phone and glanced at the photo he had taken of “The Medusa.” The picture was really great! He thought of posting it on Instagram, but changed his mind. He would do that in the safety of his home, where no harm could come to him. Would posting the photo violate any laws? 

Stiles took the opportunity to send a text to Scott and Derek. For his boyfriend he typed out a few more, actually, though there was no immediate reply. What could Derek be doing that was so important that it prevented him from shooting a quick reply? Stiles understood Derek wasn’t a fan of cell phones, but this would have to change. 

Eventually, tiredness overcame him. He dropped his phone and leaned his head against the windows, and allowed sleep to engulf him. 

The rumble of the engine starting shook Stiles awake from his power nap. He woke up a bit disoriented, and wiped the drool running down his chin with the back of his hand.

Somewhat surprised, he looked out the window. It seemed later than it should have been. Checking his suspicion on his phone his heart leapt. Three warning texts from Derek. Oops...

“Hey-”, he leaned into the front seat and spoke to Eddie Abomowitz. “Shouldn’t we be back by now?” 

The other boy shrugged, clearly bored.

“Greenberg entered the wrong bus and delayed the trip.”

“Oh, c'mon!!” Stiles whined and sank into his seat. He would never reach Beacon Hills before eight o'clock. He was practically waving “goodbye romantic dinner with Derek.” The was no chance they would reach Beacon Hills before 10!

With no way to speed up the journey, he shot texts to Scott, Allison, Lydia and Danny, so everyone would know what happened and would be in school at the right time, since they had lied at home and really needed to be there. The other option would be deep trouble. 

Finally he sent a message to Derek, canceling the dinner. The answer came almost instantly. The werewolf has promised to wait for him at the school gate and accompany him home.

Stiles smiled at the response as it was very romantic... with a couple of typos. Derek hated phones. He only bought one because it was important that the Pack had a quick and convenient way to get in contact. It depends whether Hale decided to stay basic: a howl here and there. He reminded Stiles and Allison that humans might not always listen and more importantly, he might not respond to this type of call.

Good argument.

And that meant that Derek’s little action was just that little bit cuter. 

The sheriff's son straightened up in his seat and let his eyes observe the landscape outside. San Francisco was a fascinating city. No glow like New York City or cold as Philadelphia. No lights like LA either...

I shouldn’t be comparing cities. Stiles berated himself. 

San Francisco had its own character and charms, like any city in the United States. As Beacon Hills.

Stiles was happy and relieved go back home. He switched his phone on silent mode, pocketed it, then settled down to continue his interrupted nap. They were on there way back home... and hopefully nothing else would awaken him.

\- - -

Scott parked his motorcycle beside Derek’s car. He knew right away that the older werewolf had been informed by his boyfriend of the late arrival. McCall had ridden through the city to reach Beacon hills with Kira, and had arrived at nine o’clock. Better safe than sorry. 

“Derek.” Scott greeted with a nod, and received a nod back.

“You were not on the tour?” Derek raised an eyebrow, looking at the young Alpha then the japanese girl.

“Nope,” Scott answered, popping the ‘p’ “I took Kira to the reserve.” the couple seemed to have had an extremely satisfying day, Derek concluded, taking into account the suppressed smiles on both their lips. 

“It was so much fun Scott. Thank you.” Kira smiled wider.

Derek couldn’t help but roll his eyes discreetly. New love... they didn’t really fit the category. Stiles and Derek on the other hand, totally fit that category. 

The next to arrive were Isaac and Allison. They looked very happy, if not more than Scott and Kira.

“Let me guess.” the ex-Alpha mocked. “You guys also skipped the trip?”

“No.” the Argent shrugged. “We just took a different trip.” 

“Something like that.” Isaac agreed.

“The bus is late isn’t it?” Kira sighed. “This always happens on trips.”

“Half of Pack went and half of Pack stayed.” Derek commented, leaning against his own car. “It wasn’t always like this.” 

“Wrong.” It was Isaac who volunteered to spill some news. “We met Lydia and Aiden at lunchtime. They kind of split this field class with us ... but soon they parted.”

“I bet they’ll be here soon... like Ethan and Danny.” Allison remark.

“You all missed class?” Derek didn’t know why he was even surprised. They were being typical teenagers. 

“Not everyone.” Scott smiled. “Stiles is representing us. We can always count on him.”

Hale jutted out his lower lip slightly. If he had known everyone else was going to skip the trip for a romantic day he would have stolen his boyfriend and taken him on a very unique field trip! 

“I cant wait to do it again!” Kira spoke dreamily.

Scott was about to reply when he heard his cell phone ringing. He pressed answer. 

“Hi, mom”.

“Scotty! My son, thank God... are you okay?”

The boy glanced around with confusion painted across his face. What sort of question was that?

“Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

There was a moment of hesitation across the line. McCall looked at the device to check if the connection had been cut. He put the phone back next to his ear. 

“Mom?”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or leave you grounded. You skipped class didn’t you?!” 

“How did- How did you know that? Has something happened?”

Scott immediately knew there was bad news to come when he heard his mother take a deep, sharp breath. 

“W-we received a call, about an accident on the highway...I- I was so scared honey, I’m so glad you’re okay!” 

At this point Derek, who could hear the conversation, unfolded his arms, and stepped towards Scott. His face began to pale, dreading the inevitable news.

The werewolves exchanged worried looks before the young Alpha spoke in barely a whisper. He knew he was only postponing what he knew he was about to hear. 

“Mom... what kind of accident?”

“A school Bus accident, with your school bus...”

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trouble time ò.ó


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously...
> 
> At this point Derek, who could hear the conversation, unfolded his arms, and stepped towards Scott. His face began to pale, dreading the inevitable news.
> 
> The werewolves exchanged worried looks before the young Alpha spoke in barely a whisper. He knew he was only postponing what he knew he was about to hear. 
> 
> “Mom... what kind of accident?”
> 
> “A school Bus accident, with your school bus...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character "Francis Aberline" does not belong to me. He is a character in the movie 'The Wolfman (2010)', the actor Hugo Weaving as Francis Aberline. It is a very cool movie about werewolves.

Scott froze. 

His jaw was hanging loosely, and his knuckles turned white as his grip tightened. He shouldn’t have been so surprised, why else would his mom call him? But now it was out in the open, it hit him harder than a ton of bricks. 

Stiles could be injured. 

Or worse. 

Scott was completely numb. He slowly closed him mouth as he began to regain feeling, and blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill. He asked his mother what had happened. 

Derek, in the same state, felt anger bubble up inside him. It was all his fault, no? He should have gone with Stiles. I could have protected him. Derek shouted in his mind, clenching his jaw tightly and attempting to contact Stiles. No emails, no texts, no answers, no nothing. He retried, trying to hang on to the last thread of hope that remained, but once again, there was nothing. He felt any piece of optimism left, melt. 

“No answer.” He said grimly. He pocketed his phone and stared at the ground, as if it would turn back time and stop this from ever happening. 

Scott pressed ‘end’, cutting the connection with his mother. “I know the approximate location of the accident.” He turned to his new girl friend to speak, “Kira-” but was cut off.

“I'm going with you.” She spoke in a rigid, confident tone, leaving no room for discussion. Scott nodded meekly.   
“Isaac and Allison go to the hospital. Notify Lydia and the twins. Derek and I are going to the accident scene.” 

Everyone listened to the Alpha’s orders, and separated to go to their designated location. McCall hopped on his motorcycle, with Kira’s arms wrapped around him. Derek started his car and sped off with The Alpha and Kira. 

Pure chaos.

That was what they found. The incident appeared to have taken place in the wilderness, along the highway, a border passage. One bus was intact, awaiting permission to return to school. Frightened students remained inside, but pressed their palms and noses against the windows.

But the other bus...

Scott pulled to a stop and climbed off his bike with Kira. They became entangled within the confusion of people. Ambulances and Police cars kept their sirens on, the flashes of red and blue disorienting Scott slightly. The heavy air was pungent with the smell of blood, smoke, fear, and doubt. And Pain. A lot of Pain. 

Scott’s heart skipped a beat, then it began thudding rapidly in his chest, like a builder slamming nails into pieces of wood with great force. 

As for the bus. 

Completely sliced in half. 

Literally. 

One half of the yellow vehicle remained standing, however poorly balanced. The other half was barely visible as it was surrounded by police officers and medics. It had collided with the ground, laying on it’s side having been unable to resist the attack. 

McCall stepped back, almost tripping. It was all too much. The stench made it almost unbreathable. He took another step back and bumped into Derek. It seemed he had weaved his way through the mass crowd. 

Derek felt time stop. All he could focus on was that sudden unfamiliar smell, and the bus. Teacher’s and Police officer’s voices were blocked out. Everything unimportant was smudged, lost. 

The two looked at each other.

“The bus was attacked by a werewolf?!” Scott sounded incredulous, but the claw marks on the bodywork were undeniable. Something very strong separated the heavy vehicle in two. And besides, something unusual hung in the air. A scent that made McCall eyes glow red before the boy made an effort to control himself. “That smell...Is it an Alpha?”

Derek shook his head no.

“No. Not an Alpha... but-”

“But...? Derek, my wolf. It’s reacting to the smell, the claws, to everything. He’s getting aggressive!”

“I know, Scott. Mine too.”

“So if it is not an Alpha, what is it?”

Derek gritted his teeth, and for a moment seemed like he was not going to answer Scott’s question. Just before McCall was going to initiate an argument, Hale inhaled and shut his eyes. 

“Worse. So much worse than an Alpha.”

“What are you talking about?” Scott asked, searching his mind for all the possible werewolves that could have done this. 

“A Digamma-”

“A what?” Scott sounded confused. “A digamma? What's that? A type of werewolf? So there are not only Alphas, Betas, and Omegas?” He fired questioned after question, wanting an answer to all of them. 

Derek faced Scott and stared him straight in the eye before answering. 

“Digamma...Digamma is an obsolete word in the Greek dictionary. We use it to refer to a kind of werewolf that should not exist anymore.”

“And that smell? It is a Digamma? Are you sure?”

“First, we need to find Stiles, he could be hurt. After I’ll explain it better.”

Scott agreed with the statement. Finding Stiles was the priority. He shot a message to Allison, who said she had arrived at the hospital. 

Returning to the confusion, the Alpha saw a police car and sheriff Stilinski talking on the communicator. They quickly marched up to him wanting to know the whereabouts of his son. The man ended the call and looked sadly at the two werewolves.

“Two dead. Several injured. B- but Stiles-”. John tried to maintain his calm facade. “My son is not here.”

“What do you mean?” Scott looked John to Derek, wondering how on earth Stiles could be missing. But by John’s expression, he knew it was the truth.

“This was all I found.” Sheriff gestured to the backpack that both Derek and McCall recognized as Stiles’. “Whatever attacked the bus took my son.”

The man made an effort to control himself, but failed. He let it out. His desperation reached Derek’s and Scott’s wolves in a suffocating wave. Hale echoed these sentiments in greater proportion. He was just as worried and scared. 

“Scotty-“ the voice of a beleaguered father brought the boys back to reality. Scott filled his lungs with air and readjusted his strong expression, taking care to fix his voice into an unwavering response. He put stress on Stiles name, hoping John would understand how motivated he was. 

“We will find him. Do not worry, sir. We will bring Stiles back.”

Sometimes Scott wondered if Stiles had a sign on his forehead saying “Please attack me,” In big bold letters, because he always seemed to be in the sights of any supernatural trouble that was nearby.

Anyway,

What would a supposedly extinct werewolf want with Stiles Stilinski?

\---

Consciousness returned slowly. Unlike the pain that came quickly to him all at once, without any remorse.

Stiles willed himself to open his eyes, and attempted to sit up. Instead, he felt a sharp pain in his right side. Carefully, he felt for a wound and realized that his clothes had been shredded, and his skin was abraded, partly covered in a thin layer of dirt. It seemed he had been dragged across the ground to wherever he was. 

He pulled his fingers away from the stinging wound, and noticed dark red on the tips. 

He groaned and cursed silently.

His brown eyes locked onto the high ceiling. A skylight illuminated the room, allowing Stiles a little vision. The moon wasn’t visible. That meant it was well into the night. 

He twisted his head slightly and looked at where he was. It was a small room, devoid of any furniture, only high walls. The concrete floor was dirty and littered with dry land and foliage. Besides the skylight, there was no other windows. Not even a small one. 

Stiles took a deep breath.

Even in the dim light it was possible to see the marks on the wall. Many, in all directions. Powerful and fierce claws were used against the structure.

His heart raced and he tried to remain calm, but sunk to the ground of the unknown place. He returned to his last memory. Stiles remembered very well that he was on the school bus while returning from a visit to the Museum of San Francisco. Then he had totally dozed off. Yep, he had fallen asleep while on the journey back, and was not the only one. Several classmates slept, tired and vanquished by the long tour of the museum, and also the journey there. 

And then...

At some point of the journey he had been torn from his deep sleep. Loud cries, the smell of blood and the bus veering off the road! Sparks were created by metal against asphalt.

Confusion everywhere.

Anything after that was gone, or indistinguishable. Stiles probably lost his senses. It would be impossible to guess the events after the bus incident and before waking up in an empty room accurately. 

Aware of the bruise on his body, he moved carefully and slowly. It took several minutes and a cold sweat from the effort, but Stiles managed to get to a corner of the room. In the new position he had better view of the room. 

He regretted it for a brief second to have achieved the feat,

As the blood froze in his veins.

The first thing he noticed was the high port, strategically placed to his right and the only way to access the room. The second noticeable thing was the creature visible through the open door. In a steady, awake stance. 

A werewolf. 

In its complete form. A big, gruff figure, probably unable to pass through the opening, meaning it had to remain outside because of its sheer size. Stiles analyzed the beast, noting it’s fang size and claw strength. It could probably tear down walls effortless, let alone buses, if it really wanted to. Stile’s heart skipped a beat. Even Peter, he remembered, in Alpha form was not as muscular and frightful. It was a unique monstrosity. 

In addition, the creature kept his eyes fixed on the human, watching every movement with golden eyes, not red. Beta eyes...

That beast was a Beta? How was it possible?!

“Oh My Go-”

Stiles tried to drag himself a little further away, by pure instinct. The wolf gave a low growl, in a guttural and aggressive way. The boy froze in the act. He concluded it was much safer to stay still and silent. This fact didn’t prevent Stiles’ heart from beating in his chest so hard he pondered whether or not it would burst out his chest, or help him avoid the dryness in his mouth. 

It did not take a genius to realize he had gotten into big trouble. Indeed, he was neck deep in an unexpected situation. He needed to get out of there. Soon. 

Should he trust Scott and his pack to come and save him? 

Should he wait for Derek?

Stiles inhaled again and rested his head against the wall. Why him? Why was he always the one who got into trouble and ended up doing something wrong? It was not fair. 

‘Help,’ repeatedly echoed in his head, swirling around and constantly reminding Stiles that he was alone, (not completely) and trapped in a room guarded by a beast that was bigger than an Alpha, but had the eyes of a Beta.

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“Kira-“ the young Alpha approached the Japanese girl, but Kira managed to anticipate when, and what he would ask her. 

“Go, Scott. I can get a ride. You cannot lose that track.”

“I’ll take her home.” The sheriff offered without hesitation. “We can take care of the wounded until then.”

“Be careful.” Scott recommended before waving to the other werewolf, calling him.

Scott and Derek moved away from the chaos, so they could shift unseen. When they finally found a safe distance they assumed their complete form, using their supernatural smell to follow the scent of the other werewolf.   
The trail traveled through the woods that lined the highway and made boundaries with the beginning of the Beacon Hills Forest Reserve.

At one point Derek felt something else in the air. He gestured to his companion. Two pairs of sharp eyes sought the tall grass that covered the floor. Scott who was located a little ahead noticed the currency that marked the change of soil where the grass ended and gave way to gravel of various sizes. There was a different sign, as if something had fallen and been dragged for a few meters.

“Blood,” Derek knelt down for a closer look. It was not needed because the familiar smell was obvious. “He hurt Stiles!”

Scott gulped. Hale’s anger infected him. He struggled to stay calm, because losing his head was the last thing he needed right now.

“Come on, Derek.” McCall required in a somewhat rude tone. “The trail is becoming weaker.”

The elder nodded, standing up and controlling himself with some difficulty. Damn that creature!

They went together to the edge of a river that cut the path. The Digamma’s trail ended in the clear waters. No doubt he had come here to throw a tail off in case someone decided to follow him. 

McCall glanced at Derek. Silently, he understood that they needed to be separated to cover the largest possible area of the river banks and try and rediscover the lost track.

The older werewolf followed downstream, while Scott took the direction of the rising waters. Every second mattered toward finding Scott. 

Despite all of their efforts the day began to dawn, and they could not recover the lost trail. The Digamma was gone. And Stiles was gone too. 

The two werewolves regrouped in the same spot where they had parted. They were exhausted, depleted by depositing so much energy in to a fruitless search. And there were not even a little closer to finding their kidnapped friend.

Anger, worry and fear accumulated in Derek, to the point of bothering Scott. Hale acted so pessimistically!

“Try calling him again.” Scott suggested, as they walked back to where the attack happened.

“No. Definitely not. Maybe the Digamma has not discovered that Stiles has his phone. If I call...” He left the phrase in the air.

“By calling him, he will know he still has his phone. Stiles is smart and will use his first opportunity to get in touch.”

Derek nodded. Secretly he hoped that that his first attempt to call would not ruin everything. Hale had been desperate to learn of the accident and the reason, in the space of one hour. You couldn’t blame him for that. He needed to know. 

Together they reached the place where it all happened. There were no more students, teachers, first responders or police. Only three or four employees wandering around squeaking about what remained of the bus.

The car and motorcycle Derek and Scott left remained safe, but a little more distant. And Allison's car was parked next to them. The Argent, leaning against the bodywork along with Isaac, showed concern on her beautiful face. It was expected they would begin their questioning as soon as they arrived at their vehicles. 

“And- What is happening? Stiles was the only one who did not show up! And he wasn’t admitted to hospital! When we got here Isaac said he felt a strange smell, but now it’s disappeared.”

Scott sighed.

“Derek thinks it's the smell of a Digamma. We lost his trail in the creek. But it seems that this creature took Stiles.”

“Why?” Allison sounded horrified.

“We don’t know.” Derek clenched his hands, so angry that his fists began to shake.

“What is a Digamma? I would say that the smell is like a werewolf. But...- wait aren’t there just Alpha, Betas and Omegas?”

“I'll explain everything later, Isaac. We better go to my house, unless someone wants to rest.” Derek suggested somewhat gruff.

The mention of a rest was promptly refused by the teens.

“We have no time to lose.” Allison walked back to the car, like Isaac.

“I’ll speak with Stiles’ father.” Scott climbed on to the bike, but before putting on his helmet he took out his phone intending to call the sheriff and inform him of the failure of their searches.

“Don’t do it.” Hale told the young Alpha. “I'll talk to him personally. Go straight to my house. I will meet with you there.” 

McCall nodded. Frustration was the dominant common factor between all four. And you didn’t have to be a werewolf to know that.

\- - -

Stiles had the worst night he had ever had in his young life, that he could remember. Okay, maybe not worse than the nights he spent in the hospital, along with his mother who languished every day without the doctors able to do something about it. Unable to save her. Those were the worst nights he had ever had, thank you very much.

But this would definitely go into the Top 03 bad moments of Stiles Stilinski, totally.

He avoided moving as much as possible; because the wolf followed each of his gestures with predatory attention. The golden eyes twinkled. There was so much interest in those shining wild iris’ that made Stiles feel like a little mouse trembling in front of a lion.

Stiles could not understand why he had been brought up here. Or how. The wound on his body suggested that the werewolf had dragged him for at least part of the route. That and the frayed clothing. But not for long, considering, if he had been pulled across the floor longer the injury would be deeper and he would have most certainly been awoken from unconsciousness because of pain.

He gave up trying to understand. Some things just don’t ever make sense.

The hours dragged slowly, in such a way that Stiles questioned if he was parallel reality. His body was numb and he felt cold, partly thanks to the cold sweat that trickled down his temples and down his back, and partly because of the temperature in the morning.

Despite the difficult situation, his cunning mind was trying to draw up plans to help him escape. He had felt the phone in the front pocket of his pants, but did not dare try to use it. He feared the reaction of the werewolf. Even if the monster did nothing until then, only watching him, he was not taking any chances.

He decided to grab his opportunity when it came. 

It took place at dawn. The clarity has decreased considerably, it was always darkest before dawn. Then the shade changed as the sun rose, and its rays mercilessly tore through the clouds, making way for the new day.

Stiles saw the wolf move. It was time for him to return to his human form. The boy was familiar with Scott, Derek and others making the transition as easily as a dancer switching from a jump to a twirl. 

Nothing in the world would prepare the boy for the scene that he saw.

The werewolf threw his head back and gave a show, one that a werewolf would give to it’s prey. A growl tore through his throat and echoed loudly, bringing direct outputs of agony from hell.

Stiles’ whole damn body shuddered at the sound that was pure pain and ferocity. His eyes widened while he watched the animal's body writhe and crack, as if his bones were being broken and reformed in a new constitution. 

The pain and suffering of the creature was so deep and uncontrollable that the werewolf was allowed to fall to the ground, howling and turning on itself, unable to keep it’s focus on it’s prisoner.

It was the chance that Stiles needed, so he clung to a his chance like a castaway adrift spotting a piece of wood. Stilinski moved quickly, pulling his cell phone from his pants pocket. His injury hurt so much, that he bordered on unconsciousness briefly. He fought bravely, because he would be totally screwed if he lost consciousness. 

Cold sweat trickled down his face, and he had never been so happy before, gripping the phone which Derek was on speed dial. What made him happier was that he had changed after the device pool bath thanks to Kanima. His new model was more practical than the previous.

He ignored Derek’s missed call.

Instead of calling Derek, Stiles just clicked on the message icon. He used his thumbs, which trembled in a mixture of fear and pain, to enter a universally recognized message and sent. Seconds seemed like hours, as he sent the soundtrack of the werewolf’s howls responsible for his abduction.

With relief - that nobody could put to scale - he shoved the phone in his pocket and took a deep breath, trying to control the beating of his heart. He turned his brown eyes toward the wolf, just in time to see the black felt disappearing and the body that shrinking and recovering finally into human form.

Stiles recognized the man who kidnapped him immediately. Shocked couldn’t even begin to describe the surprise he was feeling. 

Francis Aberline.

to be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

“A Digamma-“ Peter mocked. “A real Digamma? Alive?“

Scott squinted, resisting the temptation to jump on the man and shake him by the neck until the incredulous smile was torn from his face.

“That's what Derek said.”

Peter and Hale glanced at Isaac, Allison and Scott who were standing in the middle of the room in the Mansion that was in the process of renovation. The working was almost at the end. In a few weeks, everything would be furnish able and habitable once more. Fortunately the contractor did not work on weekends, so they had enough privacy to discuss the subject.

It took a little more than half an hour for the teenagers to basically invaded the house and awaken the elder Hale at almost dawn, while talking nonsense about Stiles being kidnapped by a Digamma.

Peter did not know what was more insane: a Digamma still alive or someone who really wanted to kidnap Stiles. Secretly he wished good luck to the unfortunate person who had come up with the ill-fated idea.

Anyway...

“And where is my brainless nephew?”

“He was with the sheriff so he could update him with the news” Allison answered.

“Oh, yes”.

“So can you finally explain what the fuck a Digamma is?” Scott demanded, angry.

Peter folded his hands behind his back and walked across the room to stand in front of one of the large glass windows which had just been fixed into place. The area around them still smelled fresh.

His thoughtful approach contained the curiosity of youth, who did nothing but wait for the information to come to him.

“The milestone,” the ex-Alpha was saying, “Is officially the Industrial Revolution. But... you know... lycanthropy is not the most exact of sciences. It may be a little earlier, a little after-“

“What?” The question came from Scott.

“The point of reference. We were born or bitten after the Industrial Revolution. We are called the ‘New Generation’, And we split into Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. But of course, you already know this.” Peter sighed, clearly bored.

Allison touched his sore neck and also began to walk around the room, digesting the information. He did not have to have an above average IQ to complete Peter’s thoughts. 

“And those born or bitten before the Revolution are the ‘Primitive Generation’?” She asks.

“‘Old Generation’, you mean. ‘Primitive’,sounds offensive, don’t you think; it sounds like child.” He corrected with amusement in his voice, but then he became serious. “Yes, the werewolves before this generation are called as such. But they do not fall into three categories. They are all called Digamma.”

“The Industrial Revolution?” The Isaac’s voice betrayed his disbelief. “This guy has lived for what? Two hundred years?!”

“Nearly.” Peter replied.

“Werewolves can actually live that long?!” Scott felt a little upset about the possibility.

“Not that I know of.” Hale returned to explanations. “So far, all Digamma are extinct. You see, human aging is seen in lycanthropy as a disease, so our healing factor fights him. And the result is that werewolves age slower. But still, we grow old and die eventually. We are not immortal.”

“But how can there be such an old werewolf still alive then?” Allison tried to understand what she had just heard. She found it difficult.

Peter turned his back to the window and stared at his young friends. They knew so little, that he found their innocence to be touching. Ignorance was like a veil that clouded their sight and prevented them from seeing the truth. The man who loved being half-opened would enter their small veil and allow them a brief glimpse of the real world hidden from most humans.

“You know why a pack is so important?” Peter asked.

“The numbers.” the answer came from the young Alpha. “Because we are stronger when we have other werewolves with us.”

“Exactly, Scott” Hale shook his head in appreciation. “Wolves go in packs. Humans live in society, so there is obviously strength in numbers and protection. But we are neither men nor wolves. We are a new kind of parity by nature. We grasp the power of nature. And when a Digamma is born or bitten, he has exactly that: virginity, pure nature to give him power. A Digamma alone has the strength of an entire pack. He does not need numbers.”

Hale ended his long speech with his arms opened, in a significant gesture. Scott, Isaac and Allison had listened to him with interest and curiosity the passionate explanation. They dared not break the moment, that was tinged with a certain dramatic tone.

“But then it ended. The nature lost space to progress. We lost our strength. There was almost no nature to give us power. So then we needed other werewolves. We need ed numbers, unlike the Old Generation. Being a Digamma is like having an alpha, a beta and an Omega merged into a single creature.”

“Why would such a monster want something with someone like Stiles?” Allison questioned quietly.

“I doubt it's anything interesting. I heard a lot about Digammas on my trip to Europe. Here in the United States it is a dull and almost forgotten tale. I just don’t understand why it would be here...fate is something cynical, I'd say. It will always surprise us.”

“What do you mean?” Scott frowned showing his confusion.

“I mean there are endless possibilities: this Digamma, even if he may have smelled the Pack all over Stiles and felt threatened. My nephew could be a decoy. Why not? Although my bet is not this option-“ he smirked, “Two hundred years is a lot of time, don’t you think? This werewolf may have felt lonely... or crazy or maybe he wanted an afternoon snack with an acquired taste. There is practicallyno chance of Stiles longer alive.”

The boys felt anger begin to boil within them. They all knew that Peter just wanted to be annoying. And he was getting what he wanted. If only he could be burned at the stake...

Before anyone could criticize the insensitive theory the main door opened and Derek burst through, half breathless and with an expression that demanded urgency in their actions.

“He's alive,” Derek said before displaying his phone “And he sent me a text.”

\- - -

Stiles stared at the man before him, gasping in disbelief that someone so seemingly cultured and discreet could be a werewolf. He almost kicked himself by thought though, after all, Scott and Isaac do not exactly seem like supernatural creatures at first glance.

Stiles quickly tried to calculate his chances of evading the man that was half lying on the floor. Maybe it was his one chance to escape!

Almost as if he was telepathic, Aberline stood up, not bothered by the fact he was stark naked. He turned his neck to the side, causing a quiet ‘pop’. He stretched his broad shoulders and seemed perfectly restored to human form in seconds.

Stiles decided it was his supernatural powers and gave up any act of rebellion. For now.

“Sorry about that, dear.” the adult ran his hand through his scruffy hair, trying to restore the appearance of maturity he had when they were at the Museum.

“It’s uh... it’s okay” Stiles responded humorously. “Just let me go home and we can totally pretend this never happened.”

Aberline nodded.

“I would if I could. However, my wolf would never allow it.” His voice was neutral, but determined.

The boy despaired.

“How is that so? You can’t just kidnap someone, it’s against the law! My father must be desperately looking for me, my friends and my boy-... I mean… my friends! Let me go and I swear I won’t tell anyone” Stiles tried to straighten his back against the wall, but the gesture only made him groan in pain, an act that increased his distress.

Francis Aberline did not answer. He paced the room, not even giving any recognition of the fact he was nude, leaving the youngest person in the room terribly embarrassed. He reached down and grabbed the boy by his arm, bringing Stilinski to his feet. 

Stiles almost screamed in pain. His vision blurred and darkened and Francis had to support him so that he would not collapse. Besides his bruised body, he had been sitting too long in the same position.

“Let's take care of that wound, young man. It was not in my plans to hurt you. But controlling my wolf is not always an easy task.”

Stiles had no breath or willingness to respond. He allowed the man to guide his faltering steps out of the room. They continued through a long corridor that ended with a flight of stairs of roughly ten steps. 

That made the teen understand why the walls of the room were as high they were. The site had obviously been adapted to cage the gruesome creature that Aberline morphed into during full moons.

The stairs opened into a large living room, also devoid of furniture. They approached the door at the opposite end of the room. This time the area was very white and clean, the walls lined with cabinets, plus a table with four chairs surrounding it. 

“As you can see this is one of the most important places in the house, after my return to human form.” As he spoke he shifted over to a clothes rack and picked up a sort of dark, simple and lightweight robe, but extremely tasteful, which veiled the naked body.

Stiles said nothing. He still felt a little pain. He simply watched the werewolf as he open a cabinet and retrieved some antiseptic and bandages to treat his injury.

“This seems pretty bad.” Aberline analyzed the wound carefully. “Do you allow me to fix it? I must alert you of the pointlessness of any escape attempt. I would not like to be aggressive with you.”

“Any more?!” Stiles mocked, presenting his captor with a grimace.

“My plans are to go,” Francis ignored the provocation. “Treating you or not treating you. Which do you prefer?”

The boy gulped. He needed to gain some time.

“Okay,” slowly he removed what was left of his shirt and lifted it, exposing a very pale complexion, but covered with remnants of dried blood. “Holy Shit, something tells me it will hurt a bit. Does...okay-...okay... just do your magic.”

Aberline smiled and advanced with a bottle of boric acid. The solution came to contact with the dried blood of Stiles’s abraded skin, but it didn’t hurt. It had almost immediate anesthetic effect, no measures for relief of the prisoner.

Patiently the man cleansed his skin, ridding it of clotted blood, small pebbles adhering to cuts and fragments that could cause an infection. Francis finished it off with gauze,vprotecting and securing him with tape. All the material was in abundance by cabinets. Perhaps the owner was commonly hurt. Or worse, commonly hurting others.

The thought made Stiles shiver.

This caught Aberline’s attention. 

“Come with me. I'll prepare something for you to eat and it will give me a chance to explain your situation.” He demanded in a tone that gave no room for replicas. “But before that I believe it would be appropriate to give me the cell in your pocket.”

Stilinski pursed his lips but obeyed, seeing his shiny new smartphone being crushed without any difficulty by the strong hands of Aberline. His father would be mad at having to buy another one so soon. But he would worry about that later. For the moment it became clear that the strength werewolf was a hidden threat: do not challenge me. 

The teen did not complain. At least he had managed to send a text to Derek before it was crushed. It filled him with hope. And only with this little hope, did he obediently follow Aberline hoping that if he postponed anything it would give Derek longer to find him.

to be continued


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles thought about how life was unpredictable. About two years ago he entered high school as a Nobody, desperate to stop being so incognito, to be matched by his passion since third grade, conquer the position of holder on the Lacrosse team, and become popular.

So far, none of those wishes had been granted, however he didn’t need them anymore. He served in a supernatural world in which he wasn't a Nobody. He had discovered a passion stronger than that nurtured by Lydia for his team. His pack. 

But thinking of a more recent past...

Almost twenty four hours ago, Stiles was having breakfast with his dad, listening to a lecture about not breaking million-dollar works of art, sharing a peanut butter and toast jam with his boyfriend and covering for friends who were abandoning the trip to be cavorting in the Woods. And now, he was sitting in a kind of kitchen, in an unknown House, waiting for his host to finish preparing the tea. And, he almost ailed to mention, he was abducted.   
Welcome to Wonderland.

Holding a in a sigh, he pulled up the tatters of his shirt and noticed the wound. The gauze was dry, so he could conclude that the bleeding had stopped, although it still stung a little bit whenever he moved his arm. After analyzing his location: a small, easily accessible kitchen, with a table and three chairs around it, the fourth was leaning in a corner, broken. A set of white cabinets nailed to the wall, a sink with counter and a portable stove with two mouths.

Aberline had his back turned to him as he made the tea. Stiles watched, silent. Why was it his instinct to do as he was ordered? He might not be the most sensible person in the world, however he isn’t stupid. Never provoke a situation that could put your life at risk, unless you have a solid chance of escape that has no possibilities of failure.

And for that he needed the paramount: information.

“Are we near Beacon Hills?”

“I'm afraid not.”

“How far?”

Francis veered round to face Stiles, noting the boy’s demeanor carefully.

“Enough to tire my Wolf to bring you here.”

“Oh-”

Then the owner of the House turned off the fire, approached the table with a mug of steaming tea and put it in front of Stiles. And he even found a glass tumbler for himself. Rather than sitting on a chair, Francis decided to sit on the wooden counter beside the sink. 

“I apologize for this,” he shrugged, “It’s not often I receive visits.”   
Stiles made a face.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Stiles accepted the cup and blew across the rim. He needed something warm inside his stomach. 

“This is one of my shelters in the new world. Whenever I'm on the West Coast and it’ sthe approximate time of when the full moon comes out, I come here. It's safer that way. My plans were to stay in the country until Sunday. But I believe that now it is necessary to anticipate my return to England.”

The boy moved uncomfortably in his chair. He scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to act properly to the statement.

“I don't quite know how you do things in London, but it is totally against the law to attack a bus and kidnap people.” Stiles was saying. “Why did you do that? What do you want from me? And, please, don’t conjugate the verbs ‘to kill’ or ‘assassinate’ in any way shape or form.”

Francis noted how Stiles revolved the mug of hot tea in the hands, avoiding eye contact with him. His Wolf responded to the scene. And it wasn't just the monster itself that outlined some reaction. It had been many years, decades, since the Englishman had had a conversation, or stood so close to another person.

“I'm going to be straight with you, lad.” The firm voice drew the attention of Stiles. The boy lifted his head and stared at his abductor as he drank some tea “My Wolf has chosen you as a partner. Simple as that.”

The boy's face contorted into an expression of lividness. 

“What? That is not ‘simple’!” He exclaimed, “Your Wolf can not choose me as a partner within the space of a five minute of conversation. And I’m even more sure that it can’t go round kidnapping humans. Ever heard of reciprocity? I don't think so. I'll give you an example-“ Stiles pointed to Aberline continued with, “Reciprocity is something that does not exist here. Just in case you weren’t sure, okay?”

The corners of Aberline’s lips tugged upwards slightly.

“You're talking to a werewolf. How can you say that a passion cannot arise in five   
minutes?”

Stiles opened his mouth to refute, but found no valid argument. So he drank some more tea before say anything.

“And this is where you say that my smell seduced you and all those sensitive things that happen to supernatural creatures?”

The Digamma placed a hand under his chin, with his mouth jutted to the side in a thoughtful expression. He pondered the question. 

“Well, not those exact words. When you approached me, you smelled... How do you call it?” He thought for a few seconds “ of a Pack. Yes. I smelled a Pack on you. So I tried to get away and avoid trouble, but-”

“I called you back,” Stiles lifted his hands “Amazing. Awesome. This is me. Just causing trouble every where I go.”

“Yes. When my Wolf heard your voice it was filled with curiosity, interest and a slight attraction. It wasn't just the smell, noticeable behind the odor of Pack. It was his voice, the way you talk, full of life. I've lived a long time, Stiles. But I've never met someone who has a vision so altruistic and empathetic of the suffering of others. The wolf inside of me felt touched, by finding a boy so young that I could maybe understand my own ‘Burned Soul’.”

Stiles was baffled by what they had just heard. His ideas mingled and he was unable to say something to counter Francis’s arguments.

“They were just five measly minutes” Stiles insisted “You cannot use it to change your life and the lives of other people. I-”

“How long does a werewolf bite?” Aberline cut him off before drinking the rest of his tea.

“What?”

“When one of those...Alphas, bite a person, How long do you think he continued the act of biting? As in, teeth in flesh.” 

Stiles shook his head. “I dunno. Maybe two, three seconds-“

“Two or three seconds can change a person's life forever. Time is unimportant, dear child. Very unimportant.”

“I have a family!” Stiles rang out in a gruff veneer of courage, “Man, I have a life, I go to school. I have- a- a person. I don't care about what your Wolf wants and doesn't want. You better take me home or-“

“Calm down,” Aberline butted in before proceeding, “I won’t do pretty much anything you don't want me to do. You can continue going to school, see your family. You can move on.”

“You will set me free?” Stiles narrowed his eyes, not trusting what he heard.   
“If you accept my Wolf as a partner.”

“Absolutely not! I already have a boyfriend!” The boy revealed without being able to contain himself, wanting to surprise the older man with information about his sexuality. Stiles regretted almost immediately. If Francis claimed him as his partner, his sexuality shouldn’t alarm him. What an absurd situation.

“I guess, so be it” Aberline's stated, “You are the partner of a werewolf. The unpleasant odor of the creature in your body is stronger than the smell of others.”

It was impossible to stop the smile from coming to Stiles’s lips. Scott and the other werewolves had already told him that, several times. Ever since he had been with Derek the first time, after exchanging hugs and kisses it was as if he was saturated with the smell of him.

“Do you not understand? I've already found my partner. You have no right to- to come out of nowhere, decide you want something and take it for yourself, if it will destroy the lives of others. My life-“ The boy murmured.

“Wolves are loyal creatures in every way. I respect your relationship and never, under any circumstances, would I try to take the partner of another werewolf.”

Stiles shook the cup firmly between his hands, afraid to lose control and throw the liquid in the face of his kidnapper.

“For God’s sake man. You don't make any sense! Have you heard what your saying? If you respect my relationship with Derek–“ He didn’t realize he had just revealed the name of his boyfriend, “-Why am I here, against my will? Completely against my wish?!”

“Because you haven’t officialized your relationship. As he has not yet declared you as his partner officially, my Wolf does not recognize the relationship. It's like you don't have any commitment with Derek’s wolf.

Stiles run his tongue along his lower lip. He felt inexplicably tense and uneasy under the   
sharp eye of the man.

“Just to be clear-“ Stiles returned to spinning the mug between his hands “What do you mean by ‘making it official’, that you have to declare a relationship?”

“I mean, that you two haven't consummated the relationship. In other words: you haven’t had sex.”

The boy felt his face heat up to his ears. Of course he not had sex with Derek! They began dating only a week ago! They haven’t had the time to yet.

“Who said we haven’t had sex?” Stilinski mumbled, pulling away from his tea. He had lost the will to keep pretending that he was going to drank the warm and unpleasant liquid.

“Your smell, your real smell, underneath the odor of your boyfriend and the Pack, is something pure. Untouched. It’s amazing to find these days.”

The Sheriff's son gulped and his eyes bugged out.

“Wait, wait, wait. Just wait a minute man. Calm down, clarify something for me. Just to - you know - totally end any misunderstanding. You mean, besides everything I smell like a Virgin?!”

“Exactly,” Francis replied, smiling in amusement.

Stiles groaned. He crossed his arms on the table top and supported his face on them by hiding it along with his shame.

“Somebody needs create a law against such humiliation!” Stiles mumbled in an annoyed tone.

“It’s just natural, my boy. And valuable. You shouldn't feel humiliated.”

The teenager raised a hand as an indicator, firmly pointing upwards, although he continued with his face hidden.

“Stop. Stop calling me that. I'm not ‘your’ boy.”

“Yet.”

At this point, Stiles raised his head.

“Sir, we need to resolve this situation. Anyone would be honored to be requested by your Wolf. But I already have someone. And I love that person. I don't want to officialize anything with you. Only a few still have sex with someone who's old enough to be their father. Not that I'm prejudiced, you can be happy in the way you want to! But- but- This is totally crazy! Just... Let me get back to my house? Please?”

Aberline’s decided expression changed to serious. 

“I respect your decision. Like I said I would make you do anything, lad. You can turn me into a werewolf all you want, but I'm not a complete monster. I would never carry the weight of a rape on my shoulders.”

The relief hit of Stiles in waves, which in turn hit Francis, as well with sadness, knowing that he caused such revulsion in his young romantic interest.

“Thanks-“

“However my Wolf will not release you so easily. He wants you around, even if you don't make the commitment official. And in this case you will go to London with me. We leave as soon as the new moon breaks through.”

“No way!” Stiles stood up, desperate. Had he heard correctly? 

“Sit,” Aberline’s order came in a low, controlled voice that caused the boy to have chills. He obeyed without question. “We're moving straight to my house on the East Coast, in Pennsylvania. From there we proceed to my property in Blackmoor, in England. The choice is yours, I will be very direct, we can get in my car for free desire. Or I can take you out fast, but not painless. It would be unpleasant for me hurt you again, so I will wait for your full cooperation.”

“Please-“ Stiles whispered, powerless. Pennsylvania? It is so far away. On the other side of the country! It was as if a hole had opened under his feet and had he lost footing. England?! He'd be completely lost.

“All this can be avoided,” Francis put the empty glass on the sink. “Just accept me as a fellow officer. Let me change its smell and change its essence, boy. And then you will be able to return home.”

To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

_Then_

_“Please-“ Stiles whispered, powerless. Pennsylvania? It is so far away. On the other side of the country! It was as if a hole had opened under his feet and had he lost footing. England?! He'd be completely lost._  
   
 _“All this can be avoided,” Francis put the empty glass on the sink. “Just accept me as a fellow officer. Let me change its smell and change its essence, boy. And then you will be able to return home.”_

_Now..._

“But-... but-...-” the boy just opened and closed his mouth, getting nothing but babble.  
   
“Having ownership of a partner is enough for my Wolf. You wouldn't have to stay all the time around me. You would lead a normal life.”  
   
Stiles shook his head.  
   
“You can't ask me to make a decision like that under so much pressure-” He whispered. “Let Me think about it... I just want to reflect a little.”  
   
Aberline narrowed his eyes and concentrated on Stiles’ feelings, which he could find if he tried hard enough. He recognised stress, insecurity, fear, indecision, concern and a few others that would be expected in such a situation. He didn't notice any indication of lying.  
   
“It's a fair request.” The man agreed, “I don’t exactly offer the best accommodations, but I believe that it is appropriate to stay here until tomorrow morning. I will ask my servant to get you better clothes and some groceries.”   
   
“You have a servant?” Stilinski asked, surprised.  
   
“I have a lot of things, young one. If you accept my offer, you do not have to worry about anything else in your life. I will take care of you and protect you. I have all my assets at your disposal at any time.”  
   
The boy thought about giving a smart ass response about the fact that certain things don't have a price and that if Aberline thought he could buy his affection he was parlously fooled. But he changed his mind. Everything that had happened suddenly came to him at once: the confusion on the bus, the fear, the pain, the terrible tension that dawned after discovering the werewolf’s true identity. The conversation that was apparently calm had actually caused high levels of mental wear and tear. Stiles felt exhausted.  
   
Aberline, who had been surprised by the silent reaction, but full of rage at the mention of his possessions, recognised the sequence of tiredness in the delicate features of his young love interest.  
   
“I will ask you to go back to the room you were in. Despite it being an unpleasant place it is one of the safest. As soon as my servant has something to help make you comfortable, I will take you immediately.”  
   
The boy just nodded his head in agreement. At least he got one more day. If Derek and others are smart and fast enough, they could save him before the madness worsens.   
   
\- - -  
   
“SOS?” Scott read Derek's phone screen. “Seems just like Stiles.”  
   
“But it could have more details!” Isaac pointed out, but he soon dismissed his own complaints. “Maybe he didn't have a lot of time?  
   
“Yes.” Peter answered and turned to his nephew “That time in the hospital, it was through a message that you found me, wasn’t it?”  
   
Derek nodded.  
   
“We were able to locate the phone that sent the message. But-... I don't know if that's the case here. We know the origin of the message, but not the location.”  
   
“Better talk to Danny.”  McCall suggested. “Derek, you and I will go do this, maybe Danny knows how to help us.”  
   
“And I’ll talk to my dad.” Allison decided .“See what he knows about Digammas. I'd bet on a pattern of behavior that can help us find them.”  
   
“I'll go with you.” Isaac offered.  
   
That was the signal to separate. They easily managed to contact Danny, in spite of the confusion. He called them to go to his house, where they could talk better. And the boy was grounded, since his parents discovered that he had skipped class, despite the relief that their son wasn’t hurt in the accident.  
   
Derek followed in his own car, guided by Scott who was on his motorbike. Once parked at the residence of Mahealani they wasted no time to knock at the door, which was soon opened. It seemed that the boy was awaiting their arrival.  
   
“Danny, we need a favor.” Scott was saying.  
   
The goalkeeper opened the door for his visitors.  
   
“McCall and cousin Miguel-” He greeted, having some fun. He already knew the truth about Derek, but he wouldn't miss a chance to make a joke .“Let’s go back to my room.”  
   
They went up the stairs and just after Danny shut the door he indicated that they sit on the bed, the subject was resumed.  
   
“What happened? I hope Stiles is okay. I heard that yesterday's crash was severe.” Danny asked.  
   
“Yeah. It was pretty ugly.” McCall settled himself into the bed and exchanged a look with Derek, who had remained standing. “About the favor-“  
   
“What is it?”  
   
Scott and Derek stared at each other again. They didn't have any speech combined for the boy, so they gouged the Alpha would have to turn to improvisation.  
   
“We have a text message and-... well-... would it be possible to know where the person was when the text was sent?”  
   
Danny smiled.  
   
“Sure. The phone companies operate with signal distribution towers. Whatever happens, data transition of the initial position is recorded in the system.”  
   
The information left Scott and Derek hopeful.  
   
“Danny-“ the young Alpha didn't know how to make the request, but he was cut off anyway.  
   
“Don't start, McCall. It involves invading the network and it is totally against the law. I'm not paying with the rest of my life for a mistake I made when I was thirteen!”  
   
“Please! I can't give too many details about it, but it is important! Believe me, it may involve Stiles’s safety.”  
   
The Keeper furrowed his eyebrows and looked between the two guests. Derek’s features troubled the boy. It was as if he had pulled a titanic effort to try and hide his concern.  
   
“What's happening?”  
   
“Trust me, Danny. It's complicated-”  
   
“Scott, the system is not exactly accurate. If Stiles sent a message here in town it won't show an address by magic. In general the towers redistribute in regions.”  
   
Derek unfolded his arms and pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, extending it to Mahealani.  
   
“We have reason to believe that Stiles isn't at Beacon Hills.”  
   
Danny looked to Derek and again to the telephone. He was breathing hard but he still took it.  
   
“This will get me in serious trouble-” He mumbled, walking towards the computer.  
   
Scott released the air in a gush, air that he hadn’t even realized he had kept in his lungs. Even Derek’s posture was less tense. They were faced with a real chance of finding their abducted friend. Even if the boy wasn't there anymore, it was a starting point for further investigations.  
   
\- - -  
   
Stiles was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. He had tried the door but it was practically unbreakable. It had clearly been made to resist the werewolf attacks from Aberline, which made perfect sense to the world. A monster so large could create unimaginable damage.   
   
He lost track of how long he was there, in silence, with the idea of any rest pushed aside by several other thoughts. Although he was terribly tired, he was still in a tense state. And, of course, among everything that passed through his mind, the only thought that lingered was Aberline’s proposal. He would never agree!  
   
He just needed time. To warm up to Francis a little. To give Derek and the others a chance to find the hideout.   
   
The door opened and his eyes went to the figure of his captor who had entered the room. The Englishman was already properly dressed, holding a large sack of potato Ruffles, a can of Coke and two chocolate bars. And a package that the prisoner did not recognize.  
   
“I don't have much experience with what children like to eat. My servant said that this would be appropriate.”  
   
The sight made Stiles salivate and realize he was very hungry. His last meal had occurred at lunch the previous day. After that he had eaten basically nothing.  
   
Francis understood the silence as assent, so he put snacks on the ground beside the boy, and turned to leave. He was leaving the room when Stiles called him back.  
   
“Wait!”  
   
“Yes...?” The adult paused under the metal stop.  
   
Stiles sat, indian style, without touching what had been offered.   
   
“I just want to ask you something. What’s the difference between sex and your request?” This was a question that had really disturbed his mind in the last few hours. He knew that Derek had had sex with women before and even Scott maintained relations with Allison. Now the Alpha seemed interested in Kira, the Argent and Isaac gave something and Derek Hale-... well, Derek was his boyfriend. It was pretty obvious none of the wolves had ever even mentioned the mess above and had made any kind of request.  
   
The house owner smiled. He was hit by a strong wave of real curiosity emanating from his guest. He believed that the boy really took into considered the request, which hopefully meant he could continue without having to resort to more blackmail.  
   
“Every request is a sexual act, but not every sexual act is a requisition, young one. We are part human and part wolf. In one moment, the human part is in control of our emotions. The sex that occurs at that moment is a carnal act which may involve emotions or not-” He was explaining with patience, noting how to boys face stained red. ”When the Wolf takes control… well, you can easily assume that anything can happen: death, destruction, tragedy... but sex of any kind.”  
   
“Jesus Christ man, bad mental image, thanks for that-” Stiles fought to get rid of the scene in his mind which starred Francis becoming engaged in erotic acts. Terrible, totally terrible. He tried not to sound as embarrassed as he felt.  
   
“The request happens when we don't have only part of the control, but when we both come into harmony with the same goal. It’s the body of the man and the essence of the Wolf. Because of this the Wolf’s mate also suffers changes. It is a powerful act, child. Even normal beings influencing each other during the act of love is powerful. That's why the smell would not be like that, if you weren’t a-”  
   
“Don’t say” Stiles cut him off, a little harsh. He was starting to get tired of staring his virginity in the face so often. “As of now it is totally forbidden to mention the demeaning word that starts with a "v". You know what I’m talking about.”  
   
Aberline smiled and shook his head.  
   
“Any more questions?”  
   
“No,” the boy stretched his arms out  and grabbed the bag of Ruffles, opening it. “That's all.”  
   
“Do not hesitate to call me if you want to remove any doubt.”  
   
He began leaving again, but Stiles stopped him for a second time.  
   
“Wait!!”  
   
“Yes?” The boy's interest seemed to turn the man into a well of patience. His Wolf secretly enjoyed the attention.  
   
“What do I do if I need to go to the bathroom?!” He tried not to sound desperate.  
   
“Just call me.” Aberline sighed. “I won't be far away and I’ll listen for sure.”  
   
Stiles just nodded his head, putting some chips in his mouth. That was the signal for Francis to leave and lockup.  
   
The Sheriff’s son felt pleased with himself.  He had cuddled up to him a little more. He hoped that his friends were doing something!  
   
Just then his eyes fell on a package that he didn't recognize. There was a shirt still inside the packaging. At least he didn’t have to go round in a ripped up shirt anymore. After he ate he would put on the clothes.  
   
\- - -  
   
“Guys, I tried to find the number of the GPS, but it didn't work.” Danny’s voice attracted the stares of Derek, who was walking in circles around the room, and Scott, who was sitting on the bed with his arms supported by his knees. “Then I cross referenced the service provider and identified a shipping point. Just... it doesn't make much sense.”

to be continued...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then...
> 
> "Guys, I tried to find the number of the GPS, but it didn't work." Danny's voice attracted the stares of Derek, who was walking in circles around the room, and Scott, who was sitting  
> on the bed with his arms supported by his knees. "Then I cross referenced the service provider and identified a shipping point. Just... it doesn't make much sense."
> 
> Now...

“-Have a location?” McCall stood up.

“Los Angeles County. Palmdale. Isn't that, like, twenty miles off course? How is it possible?”

The incredulity in Danny’s voice found no echo in Scott and Derek. Both knew how werewolves could be quick. Theoretically, a Digamma was graced with strength and agility far out of scale of a human.

“Thanks,” Scott cut in, because there was no way to explain to his colleague all that confusion of werewolves and Digammas.

“Thank you nothing” the goalkeeper grunted, “if I'm indicted that you’ll pay the lawyer.”

“For sure,” Derek promised, in hurry to get out of there now that he had valuable information. He had hoped to discover the invasion that Danny had done to the system. But if the worst happened, it would guarantee any legal support. After all, in his opinion, the ends justified the means. And, in case the goal was to rescue Stiles, the boyfriend who he loved. “Thank you.” Derek looked him in the eyes as he said it.

The thanks staggered Mahealani, who never expected a gesture like that of someone like the "cousin Miguel".

Finally the wolves were gone. While sitting on his motorcycle, Scott called Allison to tell her the news. The girl seemed excited about what they had discovered. She arranged to meet them at the Hale Mansion in a half hour.

\----

“Lydia is very, very angry,” Allison said as she stepped into the room. “She said that we're bad friends for not having warned her about Stiles.”

Scott grimaced. In all the confusion nobody remember to warn her.

“That sucks.” The voice of Isaac didn't seem to sound that sympathetic.

“That’s not cool,” McCall said dragging his hand through his hair.

“After we solve this, she said that she would work on distracting her mother and getting over here as fast as she could. My father not only yelled at me, he also grounded me because of Stiles, but then...” Allison shrugged.

“What have you found?” Derek cut her off, wanting- no- needing the information. They had no time for this bullshit.

To begin the meeting, Allison pulled out a file folder bag and showed it to everyone.

“Peter said here, in the United States, the Digammas virtually disappeared.” She shot a look at the man who just paid attention. “You're right. My family recorded activities of an American Digamma until 1901. After that, does not appear any more, disappearing off the map. All other Digammas mentioned bear the mark of... well...” she paused for a second, biting her lip.”They have been eliminated.”

“So this should be a tourist,” Peter mocks. He received looks of impatience that only broadened his smile. “Well, bad karma after all.”

Allison continued on, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “In the records of Digammas from outside the country include one in Ukraine, one in England, and one in Bulgaria. Three Digammas alive until today.”

“Are you kidding me? How come I’ve never heard of it?” Peter didn't bother to hide his surprise.

Allison turned the pages of the large file with impatience.

“The Bulgarian is one of the Government's prisoners. It’s been about seventy-five years since he was captured. The existence of this creature is flatly denied, but my grandfather recorded in the file as a certainty it, in fact, does exist. And my grandfather does not make mistakes.”

All present were sure of it. The old Argent was the kind of man that held on to a belief and didn’t let go for nothing. He certainly wouldn’t let this go.

“What else is there?” Derek inquired.

“There are two left. The Ukrainian and the English. Both have shelters here in the United States, and have come here on more than one occasion. Surveillance on them is fierce, but there's nothing to justify an offensive of hunters.”

“Until now,” Peter sighed out, splaying his hands in a ‘until now’ gesture.

“The only thing is, with everything that's happened in the last few months, our hunters were busy... so we don’t have a new update of information about them.” Allison glanced at Scott, apology written in her gaze.

The young Alpha approached his ex-girlfriend and grabbed the file.

“Does this have the addresses of the shelters for them here in the United States?”

“Of course,” the girl turned a few pages to find the information that she wanted, pulling out a map of the country, and tapped his fingers aside so that Scott could see the red marks. “The shelters are located in Michigan, Pennsylvania, Connecticut and Palmdale.”

“Palmdale?!” Scott and Derek exclaimed at the same time.

“Yes.” Allison snatched the folder from Scott and read the information that someone scored in red ink. “This belongs to the English Digamma. Francis Aberline.”

“Is he,” Derek started with certainty, “that boy that discovered that Stiles’ text came from some point in Palmdale?”

He stirred on the opportunity of recovering his boyfriend.

“If we leave now, we get there by ten.” Peter highlighted an important point as he spoke, which made clear his intention to be part of the rescue party. “I suggest you call the Siamese for help,” he stated coolly.

“I’m going to do this.” Scott wouldn't commit a mistake of having something as important as the safety of his best friend in the game.

“I'm with you.” Allison said in a demanding tone, leaving no room for excuse.

“What else do we know that may be useful?” Derek approached the two, trying to view the file in the hands of the girl.

“We have pictures of Aberline’s property. My dad told me that a Digamma always keeps a servant, someone who works like bait, and to stay ahead of their business, to direct attention away from themselves. In exchange for this service, they may enjoy the wealth and the assets of the Digamma for the duration of the agreement. Which is about thirty, possibly forty, years. There is a full moon tonight, the custom is for the servant to lock the Digamma up, and depart from the shelter, because any presence leaves the werewolf hostile. He comes back in the morning to liberate their ‘Master’.” The brunette ended her explanation, looking at all those present.

“But taking the whole greater strength and such, these guys are like us?” Isaac asked dubiously.

“Basically,” Peter answered. “In theory, they are stronger, faster and more savage. I believe they’re greater than us in body mass, too. Their weaknesses are the same as ours: silver, wolfs bane, mistletoe, mountain ash. The stories say that Digammas do not handle the transformation the same as we do. As there are no ‘Alphas’, ‘Betas’ or ‘Omegas’. When they turn, they are in complete form. And the Wolf assumes full control. There is no middle term.”

“My father said that was because the ancient legends start.” Allison bit her lip while thinking what he was saying. “Because Digammas transformed and attacked without distinction. Over time, they were disappearing, and the stories became just a myth.”

“We will have numbers in our favor,” Isaac pondered aloud. “Not to mention that the twins have acquired much experience in fights. Even if he takes the form complete and is as powerful as well.”

“It is difficult to set up a strategy of action. He's going to feel us coming.” Scott rubbed his hand on his chin, thinking. “We should split up into two teams. Derek, Peter, the twins and me hit them head-on and call the attention of the Digamma. Isaac, Allison and Lydia go search for Stiles.”

“Don't you think you'd better put Isaac into our team?” Peter asked, pulling a face “You know, just in case-“

“I can't leave Allison and Lydia without protection.” Scott shook his head, cutting Peter off.

“Without protection?! They have silver. And wolfsfbane. And pointy arrows of silver with wolfs bane.”

“Peter-“

“Okay, ignore my sensible suggestion, Alpha Scott.” The voice of Peter strayed a bit angrier than he intended, but that's exactly what Scott did, anger him.

“Allison, go find Lydia. Isaac, you go find the twins. Derek, you let Sheriff Stilinski be aware of what we talked about, and convince him that he shouldn’t go and continue without trying to call to Stiles. I know it will be difficult, but I don't want to risk it. Kira will have to stay, she has little experience but she will want to go, so please don’t let her come, this is dangerous. I'm going to talk to my mom and explain everything. We leave in half an hour.”

He said with the attitude of a true leader, impressing all humans and werewolves present. No one dared to question his orders, not even Peter.

\----

The day began with a sluggish certainty. Stiles was already tired of testing the door countless times. In addition, looking for secret passages just for a distraction, because if he opened the door, what would he do? Try to run? He wouldn't get far... but the boy couldn't just sit around waiting.

He had already changed into the shirt and eaten the snacks. Despite all physical and emotional exhaustion, and being awake nearly twenty four hours, he wasn’t able to relax and switch off his mind even for a simple nap. A thousand things buzzed through his head, and the proximity of the night only worsened it.

When Aberline opened the door of his arrest, and sat on the ground outside, Stiles felt his blood run cold in his veins.

“It's time?” the boy asked. Francis just nodded, confirming Stiles’ suspicions. “I- Oh, man- Are you sure this is safe?”Stiles asked, looking around. The Wolf of Aberline was great. Huge, in fact. Breaking the walls would not be an impossible task, on the contrary. He would make it seem as if the walls were made of Styrofoam.

The English man understood the concern of his ‘guest’. He tried to reassure him.

“Never fear. This room is built with a double layer of bricks, and between them there is a pure silver plate an inch thick. The door is also made of silver. Even my Wolf wouldn’t be able to break through. And–“he stirred a bit, seeming to feel pained. “My Wolf recognized you as a partner. He would never hurt you, young one.”

“Are you a beta? You Wolf's eyes are golden, but you form was complete.”

“‘Beta’? Don't. Such labels are the legacy of post modernity. Looks like it’s the latest fashion calling yourself "this" or "that". But I'm only what I am: a werewolf–“a painful moan finished the oratory.

“Are you-“ 

The answer to the incomplete question didn't have to be expressed in words.

 The transformation had begun. 

Claws arose first, destroying the elegant clothes into pieces that fluttered away. Razor sharp claws, which also tore at the skin of Aberline, causing blood and skin to shred. As black hair sprung up, the hardest part began. A hoarse scream of pain echoed, causing the hair on the back of Stiles’ neck to bristle, in equal proportion to the sound of bones breaking and remodeling, as if the body of Francis would be manipulated by invisible, cruel hands. Hands of an artist giving life to the creature worthy of its worst nightmare. The process was painful as Stiles never would have guessed. 

The beast came to the surface, growing and gaining proportions. The fangs barely fit in his mouth, what showed was covered in goopy, slick, saliva. The claws trickled his own blood on the floor, most of the wounds already having healed instantly.

The werewolf gasped. Snarling, it began recovering sense and feeling all around.

Stiles, pressed on the wall as far as the laws of physics allowed, felt the aching body of so much tension. Beads of cold sweat joined him on the forehead and behind his back, smashing through the complexion of cold fingers playing with your senses. He hardly breathed, stiff with terror and fright.

The complete form set its golden eyes over Stiles. For a few seconds, it only observed the boy, trembling and scared, then lifted his muzzle and howled the most terrifying hymn into the sky, more terrifying than Stiles had ever heard.

The boy felt his erratic heart beat and mouth run dry. He had only one certainty in the face of terrifying vision: If death ever took a physical form, it would be exactly like that werewolf.

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, people! Do you remember me? I hope so... :D
> 
> Well, I have to say that a lot of things happened, my beta had to stop helping me. And it took some time until we could find a new beta.
> 
> Thank you YouJustGotPitchSlapped, for all you did. And thank you The Five Heads of the Hydra, for acepted this challenge. 
> 
> Now the journey start over again. We are almost in the end, folks! Thank you for your understanding and patience.


	10. Chapter 10

The rescue team followed the long and deserted highway, taking advantage of Beacon Hills for several hours. Scott, Lydia, Allison and Isaac followed in Derek's car, leaving Peter and his bad mood alone in the man's car. Finalizing, the motorcade came, the twins on their powerful motorcycles.

Only one stop was made in all that time. They could not lose even a second, even though Stiles didn't initiate any more contact since that simple text.

They didn't know what they would find, or what state they would find the boy in. Only the hope in their hearts was greater than the uncertainty and fear. So they ran fast.

Allison, who was sitting between Isaac and Lydia, kept a map open and passed instructions to Derek.

“We are near the entrance of the property,” the hunter girl said. “I don't know how may we approach before the Digamma feels us. Take the detour to the right.”

Derek shook his head. His car followed the front, guiding the others. He obeyed the instruction once he saw a passage between the trees surrounding the highway.

He advanced a few yards until the vehicle was out of sight of potential travelers. He turned off the engine and jumped, followed by the boys. In seconds, Peter and the twins also parked, and they gathered.

“Unfortunately, we don't have a house plan,” Scott spoke. “Nor of the property.”

Isaac lifted his head and watched the moon that dominated the night, so round and illuminated that it seemed closer to the Earth. The night sky was heavy and covered by some dark clouds, but even this wasn’t enough to hide the beautiful and natural beacon.

“He must be transformed already,” Peter sighed.

“I hope that Stiles is right here,” Lydia whispered. She was thinking about how that property was away from everything else. The nearest neighbor was miles away, in short, the perfect shelter for a monster. “He must be terrified.”

The words of the redhead brought more urgency to the situation.

“Let's make the teams” Scott decreed, already half transformed. “Isaac, you follow Allison and Lydia. Use your nose for finding Stiles. Make an outline of the property.”

“And protect them.” Derek hated having to trust the security of his boyfriend to another person, but knew that his force would be needed to hold the Digamma and give time to leave safely. “We're going to ring the bell.”

“And walk in the front door,” Peter mocks. He was the only one who did not transform the half way, just remaining human, and let his claws out.

“The keys are in the ignition.” Derek popped his neck. “Thus you find Stiles you give out the word. We will reach each other later, when we have gotten enough time to be able to escape safely.”

“If we survive,” the grumbling of Peter was graciously ignored by all.

“Be careful.” The recommendation of McCall sounded worried. He wanted to save Stiles, of course. But he wasn't going to let anyone get hurt. All the care would be required to maintain the integrity of the members of the Pack.

“Also you,” Allison returned.

That was the signal for both teams to split and take different paths.

\- - - -

Stiles was exhausted. He couldn't stand the tension of being watched by that creature's wild eyes. Even if the werewolf didn't show to do anything besides watch, the surveillance frayed his already tensed nerves.

Sore muscles clamored for a relief that doesn't require sitting on the cold floor, with your back nailed on the wall. He lost track of time completely. But the moon had not yet appeared in sky. Maybe it wasn't midnight yet.

Then, unpredictably, the werewolf moved. The monster lifted its head and his ears were erect, as if paying attention to some noise.

Black ruffled hair and golden eyes narrowed, he growled. The growl came down an octave, and soon became a howl. When the sound had faded out, the werewolf wild irises stuck on the figure of the young prisoner, watching him intently yet again.

Stiles gulped. For one terrifying second the boy thought it was going to break into the cell and attack him. To his surprise, the monster turned around and fired fast towards the stairs that led to the exit.

Confused by the attitude, Stiles dared to breathe. Something caught the attention of his abductor. Something was going through the mind of Stilinski, and it made sense: your friends were there. Or some other person who would be attacked by a monster.

Whatever option, he needed to do something.

Rising in a haste, he felt dizzy, eyes darkened and wobbly legs. He was sitting so long that he suffered the consequences. Had to rely on the wall so that he would not fall down. He began breathing slowly and deeply for a few minutes and gradually improved enough to get out of there.

He walked as fast as his numb legs allowed. Noticing, horrified, the trail that Aberline clawed on the wall, with a barely contained fury.

Scared, Stiles followed the marks. Yet through the main room, stripped of furniture and which gave access to the kitchen and the parlor, full of bandages, when he heard new howls and the sound of a furious struggle.

\----

The Pack of Beacon Hills kept running through the trees that surrounded the house of the Digamma, until it reached the land of his residence. A three-story construction, sovereign in the middle of a lawn, somewhat tall and unkempt, but rudimentary beauty.

The werewolves moved, entering a crescent moon formation, and advancing fearless. Scott was at the center of the semicircle, with Derek and Peter running to his right and twins on his left. He smelt the scent of the enemy, an odor so rudimentary and singular that sent his wolf senses flashing with rage.

They knew they had been discovered when a howl, loud and rancorous, echoed from inside the house. The Digamma was there. And, with luck, Stiles was as well.

In seconds, the Pack reached the grass while the owner of the site arose in the main entrance. The double door of wood was destroyed completely, when the Digamma clawed furiously against the plywood sheet.

The werewolf was great. Huge. Larger than they could possibly imagine, a mass of muscles, whose supernatural power seemed to increase thanks to fury fueled by moonlight. Huge fangs barely fit in his mouth, sharp and deadly. The golden-eyed creature challenged the five werewolves who dared invade his realm.

He threw his head back and howled, loud and wild.

The challenge did not intimidate Scott or the others. On the contrary. The chance to face a creature so powerful, it riled up the wolf in them. There was no coward among the five, and not even Peter was able to retreat. Their wolf, particularly instigated, couldn't let them escape the fight.

Scott jumped on the Digamma, which snarled and avoided the blow with his arm, hitting the young Alpha and throwing him violently to the side. Ethan and Aidan attempted to ambush the monster at the same time. One of them almost managed to sink his claws in his arm, but both were caught by the neck. Aberline mercilessly knocked their heads together, and let them fall ,stunned, on the ground.

Peter took the cue to try an attack, which was thrown off when the sharp claws of Aberline struck him in the chest. First crookedly with his left hand, then more voraciously, with his right ; forming an X in blood.

The Digamma was going to sink his fangs in the throat of the Hale, letting the older male fall to his knees in front of him. However, Derek arrived at the fiasco, being the first to hit the enemy.

The smell of the blood of Francis fanned even more from the Wolf of Derek, already hungry for revenge against the beast who tried to nail his prey in the neck. In a swift movement Derek used his arm to defend himself and took the painful bite. Blood splashed, but he didn't have time to assess the damage as the Digamma dragged Hale by the arm and threw him against Peter, who was still recovering from his harsh blow. Uncle and nephew curled up, and rolled across the floor.

The old generation raised his muzzle and howled, celebrating the easy victory. That led to Scott and Derek, who were first to recover, then Ethan, Aidan and Peter to stand, the latter with more difficulty.

The Pack of Scott replied to the howling with frightening growls and advanced to the counter attack.

\----

When approaching the front door, completely destroyed, Stiles heard the sound of struggle getting worse, as if wild animals were fighting each other. You could hear them yelping and growling. And something else that made the air tight in his lungs.

Feeling some urgency Stiles arrived in seconds, and time seemed to stop for him. The grassy area in front of the house, bathed by the light of the moon, seemed to have become a battlefield. A great werewolf, Aberline, dominated the center of the makeshift arena, a great supernatural force. Peter was lying a little further away, in his human form, since he was too weak to move. Closest were Scott and the twins, who all tumbled to the ground, wounded and dirty with black, sticky blood, apparently unconscious.

Derek, half transformed, looking dizzy, but still hurt. He was on his knees in front of the enemy, who was preparing to sink their fangs into his unprotected neck.

“NO!” the boy despaired. The called made Derek looked to him, as well as Aberline. Derek's eyes sparkled brightly in blue. He tried to stand up to continue the fight, and save whoever was important. Before he could get to Stiles, the werewolf fighting against hit him with his arm, tossing him a few feet away. Not prepared for the new attack, it caused him to roll on the floor.

Stiles moved out of pure instinct. When you ran to the battlefield, during a homicide assault, you did the only thing possible. To protect your boyfriend.

Continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: What can I say? I want blood!


	11. Chapter 11

When he was remembering the sequence of events that took place that night, Stiles could not explain how he got there. Perhaps guided by the desire to save someone he loved, or better yet, blinded by such a desire that he acted out completely foolish.

As soon as his conscience recorded the fact that he realized he was falling on his knees on the high grass, leaning over the body until his arms encased the wounded body of Derek Hale, and he became the shield that protected him from the murderous rage of the enemy.

The enemy that progressed rapidly with its claws, ready to tear those who raided his precious shelter.

At the bottom of his mind, Stiles understood the folly of his act. He was an ordinary human, weak and fragile. He couldn't regenerate quickly, or use some sort of bizarre, supernatural power against the monsters dueling that night.

He was only human, weak but passionate. The perfect formula of a fool.

Stiles would just be divided in half as the claws of Aberline cross his body. But knowing that did not frighten him. In fact, for the first time since he had known the truth about Francis, Stiles did not feel afraid. Was it because of him being with Derek in his arms, the man who had come to rescue him. It was as if nothing else around him existed. He didn't care.

The boy closed his eyes and waited the few seconds that separated him from certain death.

But instead of pain, he was taken from the cliffhanger as a terrifying growl rippled through the air. Stiles dared to reopen his eyes and peek over his shoulder, he then noticed the werewolf stopped within killling distance of each other, golden eyes narrowed in anger. A large and intimidating presence. Both just stared for a second.

Aberline growled again, and Stiles felt that animalistic sound was an order. The wolf, the being ripped straight out of a nightmare, would not attack for his life. He would not harm his potential mate. But he would harm the one he was protecting.

But, greater that was the grudge and hatred against Derek, Stiles realized Aberline wouldn't attack while he was serving as a shield for the ex-Alpha.

Francis growled again, restless and ready to attack. The boy didn't move, even if he was afraid. He never thought his heart could beat so fast and so strong.

Derek, recovering a little, attempted to force the boyfriend off and go back to the fight. His gesture had the opposite effect, because rather than get off Hale, Stiles just stuck more to him. He knew letting go of Derek could be his death.

"Stiles-" Derek grunted.

"Shut up! I know what I'm doing!" Stiles grunted back. He paused for a second. "I think I know what I'm doing-"

The words were cut off by a moan of Scott. The Alpha was trying to stand up. But ended up attracting the Digammas attention. Seeing a chance to redeem his frustration, Aberline turned toward McCall and came to take a step before the despair of Stiles took shape in his voice.

"NO!" He shouted. "Don't hurt my friends! Please-"

Against all odds, against unimaginable circumstances, no more rational or logic, against all certainly and guarantee the plausibility of a situation… the werewolf obeyed. Gave up the onslaught aimed at Scott and remained standing, his very dark hair stained with blood, fangs evidenced by panting, eyes sagacious gold and bored into Stiles.

The boy swallowed without being able to believe. Time seemed to stop as if, suddenly, they were in suspension unrelated to the world around. He was very conscious of the wounded wolf in his arms, as well as Scott, who sat and took his hands to his head, with blood running down his face and dripping on the boy's shirt. As well as the twins, down on the lawn, and Peter, who struggled to rise in spite of injuries.

Yes, Stiles was aware of every minute detail that made up that painting, with elements of enlightenment, but that did not form over the scenario of his 'Burned Soul' as one called it. Rescued and saved from misery in which he lived, thanks to each one of those who came to their rescue.

Without a dam to prevent it, words poured out of his mouth, overflowing from his heart.

"This is my Pack," the whispered feeling caught the look of Francis Aberline on him. "And this is the man that I love. I already have a mate! You can't order me or whatever it is called. I will never be yours, because I've recognized my soulmate-"

The slow words was heard by the four werewolves who remained awake, including by the fountain head. Derek snarled, angry to understand the intent of the Digamma -make Stiles his mate- but the boy shook off the growl and forced him to stay quiet. Taking deep breaths, Stilinski continued. "If you hurt the people that are important to me... If you take me away from here... I won't have a reason to live."

The sincerity of those words hit everyone. Stiles was telling the truth, he put everyone he loved in the first place and didn't care to count in his own safety by those who considered him family.

Aberline had come to take a step toward the boy, calling his attention and gaining a look in return. Something in the chocolate eyes, maybe the unquestioned certainty to be fighting for the right, hit Francis in full. And his wolf also.

As the only response, the werewolf raised his muzzle and howled. A sad and desolate sound that sprouted from his broken and rejected soul. He accepted defeat. The howling was a painful outcry by having to accept the harsh reality. The young man who he had chosen as a mate would never be his.

There was a last exchange of glances. The eyes which were like liquid gold seemed to say goodbye to Stiles. He dropped down on all four legs and ran back to the house.

Scott let himself fall on the grass again, immensely relieved. While Peter finally sat up, he looked at everyone with the greatest expression of "what did I miss" on his face.

Derek took his boyfriend and held him like a lifeline. And Stiles returned the hug, pulling him against him and pressing the man against his chest heavily. Derek returned to human form immediately.

"You came." It was the only thing that Stiles managed to think of to say compared to the excitement of the reunion. "Thanks!"

"Sure," Derek replied, his tone low. "I felt sorry for the poor bastard who kidnapped you."

"What?!" Stiles tried to loosen up Dereks grip, but Hale kept him held to him firmly.

"If he knew the trouble that came with you..." and a groan of pain followed the provocative phrase.

Stiles attempted to pull away to assess the damage of his friends, but Derek refused to let him go. And then, suddenly, Derek was rubbing himself on Stiles.

"Derek... What are you doing?" It was difficult to ask having his face against the muscles of his elder.

The giggle, suspiciously sounding like Peter, reminded them that were not alone there. Although who answered Stilinski's question was Scott, not Peter.

"Trying to get the scent of the Digamma from you." The Alpha said.

"Get off the smell of what?" Stiles finally managed to get away. "Holy God, Derek, control your wolf, man! The next step is, like, what? Do you just want to pee on my feet to mark your territory?!"

Scott laughed loudly.

"You okay, though?" The young werewolf asked, sobering up quickly. "He hurt you?"

"I'm okay. Yep, he hurt me, but nothing deadly. You guys seem to have taken a beating."

"And we didn't even make much of scratch," Peter mumbled, annoyed. His chest, torn by claws of Francis, is now fully healed, albeit less rapidity than might be expected. The twins remained unconscious and neither Scott nor Derek seemed at their best state.

"We gotta get out of here." Scott made an effort to getup. His injuries healed faster than the others, perhaps because of his status as Alpha. "Then we can talk."

"I'm going to get some meds." Stiles rose along with Derek. "Aberline has a stock of them in his house."

"Don't you dare," Hale snarled angrily. "I won't let you go in that house!"

"Relax, Sunshine," Stiles patted his hand on the shoulder of his boyfriend. "You saw how I control the beast. If he didn't do anything to me at the peak of adrenaline, now he's not going to do anything at all."

"Stiles-" the ex-Alpha called in a strange tone of voice, ignoring the way Scott tried to swallow his laughter. Peter took a hand to his lips to disguise the laughter.

"What is it?" The boy stopped moving towards the Aberline house and looked at his boyfriend with some alarm. It was strange how the eyebrow of Derek twitched. It didn't seem normal.

"What did you call me?"

Stilinski tilted his head to the side, trying to remember. When he did, his face turned red and he looked down. It was the nickname.

Scott laughed boisterously, while walking up to Ethan to see the boy's state. Peter, who did the same to Aiden, also had fun with the situation. Only Stiles could get that tension to go away after a fight so serious. The relief of everyone alive would help too.

Totally embarrassed, the poor boy tried to stammer a reply, however was saved from embarrassment. They heard a loud growl and a howl that rose the hairs of everybody.

Aberline seemed to claim a new confrontation. But against whom?!

The answer to the question came instantly, when a deafening scream forced them to take their hands to their ears. A sound that succeeded in throwing McCall to his knees and made Derek stagger.

When silence fell over them again, all they did was stare at each other.

"Lydia!" Peter exclaimed, and Derek took a step forward.

But it was Stiles that beat everyone to it. It could have been the werewolves, but they were wounded and recovering with less ease than would be expected.

"Isaac and Allison are with her!" Scott warned Stiles, at the exact instant the boy jumped through the hatch door that had been destroyed, and disappeared inside the Aberline mansion.

Continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just two more chapters untill the…END! :3


	12. Chapter 12

Isaac, Allison and Lydia made a long trek on the ground without encountering obstacles. Luckily, they walked down wind, so it would help hide the smell of them. It took them long enough so that the defense team could draw the attention of the Digamma and become the distraction the rescue team needed.

When they thought they had walked far enough; Isaac, Allison and Lydia moved to begin the rescue plan. Much was at stake. The life of Stiles. The lives of their companions who would face the Digamma. The security of themselves.

They would take care that the entire Pack came back, with the kidnapped boy in tow.

However, it was not time to make conjectures. They would save Stiles and would return home victorious. No outcome beyond that would be admitted.

The werewolf motioned for the girls to stay in place while he progressed to one of the windows. He had no trouble breaking the glass and bend the iron bars that protected it. They didn't need to be discreet. The Digamma was supposed to be busy with the rest of the Pack.

After alerting the girls he had broken in, they all hopped into the house, wary of the glass shards. Within seconds of reaching the innards of the house, they realized they were in a kitchen.

Isaac walked toward a door and reached a long corridor. Claw marks on the wall indicated that something ferocious passed through there.

"Here." The Argent pointed to the interior of the house. She easily calculated which direction they had been headed.

"Wait-" the boy stood in place. Isaac wasn't sure for what scent he had followed– he had recognized the smell of Stiles ... along with the Digamma.

"He took Stiles out of the house?" Lydia sounded alarmed. "Is there any blood?"

"No," the young werewolf focused more on his supernatural senses. "Stiles smells like fear and concern, but doesn't smell like pain."

"And the Digamma?"She asked.

"Hard to say. It doesn't smell like anything I know."

"Let's split up" Allison, the most practical, decreed. "I'm going back out, only for this corridor, instead of turning around. You and Lydia continue investigating in here. We're not sure if he took Stiles or he's around here."

They didn't have time to agree with the strategic shift. In the left side of the hallway, a shadow projected itself on the wall, and out walked a large, terrifying werewolf.

"LOOK OUT!"

Isaac just had a second to push the girls behind him, while the other growled furiously and ended up howling in defiance.

A simple movement of the powerful claws hit Isaac on the chest and threw him against the wall, with splashes of blood staining the aged dye.

The boy slid to the floor, unconscious. Aberline turned his golden irises to Lydia and Allison. The redhead was terrified before the werewolf, more fierce and savage than the complete form of Peter Hale.

When he took a step forward, Lydia opened her lips, and screamed.

oOo

Stiles crossed door that Francis had destroyed, ran across the room and ran into the Hall. The owner of the House already had signs of not being able to hurt him and he felt kind of like a kryptonite. He shook his head to ward off the stupid thought.

What he caught up to was surprising. Isaac was lying in the hallway, unconscious and bleeding. Lydia and Allison had their backs against the wall, trying to fend off the werewolf, which recognized Stilinski with Aberline, although he would be lying on the floor, dying with two silver arrows embedded into the chest. Argent was just about ready to launch the third and definitive, when Stiles interfered acting purely on instinct.

"NO!" exclaimed. "Please, Allison!"

The girls looked at him without understanding the application. Somewhat reluctantly she obeyed and lowered the bow.

"You okay?" the young girl sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yes" the boy replied without taking his eyes off the figure of Aberline. Allison shook her head and was helping her boyfriend, Isaac, who was still unconscious.

Lydia gulped.

Back where Derek progressed, worried. Peter and Scott were on the front lawn, near the twins.

"Derek-" Stiles whispered.

The ex–Alpha shook his head. Just as the Digammas were stronger for having been born in a more propitious, they also suffered with intensity the some discontent caused by silver. As they became more beast than man, to have exposed their weaknesses, the effects marred proportionally.

Wolfsbane, fire, silver... everything that hindered the Alphas, Betas and Omegas; had power extended over a Digamma. So much about the man as the Wolf. The line that separates each other was extremely tenuous.

"Derek... Please..." Stiles whispered. "We can't do anything about it?"

Hale looked from his boyfriend to Lydia and then to the Digamma, which gradually returned to human form, without all the misery that Stiles had already heard during the transformation, the more complete proof that the man was dying.

Derek watched as those two were young. As Allison and Isaac. Young people exposed to a painful reality. Children forced to face the effects of early deaths and violent. Testimonies that should never have experienced.

Reminded that Stiles was already watching someone die before and each time a little more of his childhood innocence was taken from him.

"Silver is not the only problem" Derek spoke thoughtfully. "He's not healing. The Wolf gave up on living..."

Stiles said nothing. Not even Lydia or Allison. It was sad, but what they could do if the man were through? The man who was fully back to human form, whose life was bleeding out in vivid blood spurts.

Derek felt the sadness for his boyfriend. Quietly, he advanced a few steps and kneeled beside Aberline. He took off his leather jacket, torn in some places during the fight, and used it to cover the nakedness that another man, who kept his eyes closed, and whose heart was beating so weak and slow that it was almost imperceptible.

"Maybe there's a way" the ex–Alpha mumbled in a bad mood. Closed his hand around the shaft of one of the arrows.

Derek pulled the arrow out and threw it on the floor. Then he repeated the operation. Then took a deep breath and made one of the most painful requests of your life.

"Come here" waited that Stiles pulled down by his side. Then took his hand between his and looked deep into his eyes. "The Wolf he has chosen you as a mate. Maybe you can convince him to heal."

Stiles gulped. Just watched while Derek drove your hand and deposited on the chest of another werewolf.

But it was for the greater good. Save a life.

"Thanks" Stiles whispered. Then turned to Francis, not knowing what to do or say. "Hey man, I know it's not easy being rejected. Believe me, I really know what is taking a kick in the ass. Several times. But you can't let it get you down. I'm not the right person for you, but it's like... look at the size of this world! Has over six billion nine hundred and ninety-nine millions and... ah, you get the point. It has a multitude of people out there. Are you going to find someone? I'm sure! You can indicate some social networks, you know? I mean, something like facebook-"

The speech made Lydia roll her eyes.

"I just... sorry-" Stiles said softly.

What else could he say? Do not lie or make false promises. But he really regretted all that confusion. He regretted that the loneliness of Aberline was big enough to take it to extremes. And the sincerity of their feelings was punctual and noticeable. Strong.

A few more seconds passed, although the time seems suspended. Isaac moaned and opened his eyes, trying to sit up on the wall. Allison helped him in the task.

Stiles looked from friends to Derek. It wouldn't work. Aberline surrendered the points and really were through.

"I-" the boy began to speak, but felt the body under his hand tremble. And Francis opened his eyes.

Continues...


	13. Final Chapter

Instantly, Derek stood up, pulling his boyfriend with him. Isaac sat up and his entire body posture was defensive. Allison picked up the bow he had left on the floor and pointed to the home owner. Lydia swallowed.

Regardless of the malaise that had caused, Aberline only moved one hand across his face, collecting tiny drops of cold sweat. He ignored the wound in his chest that quickly closed and no longer undermined more blood in torrents.

"Just-" he whispered without looking at anyone in the room, defeated. "Go-"

Allison got up, giving some support to Isaac, who was recovering slowly from cuts on his body. They began to walk out of there. Derek started to pull Stiles, but the boy did not move. He glanced full of pity for Francis, pleased that he had not opened up their own life.

Hale frowned blankly. Stiles swallowed.

"We need... remedies," asked Stiles, full of false bravado.

"Take ... anything you need," was Aberline's response.

After that, Stiles held the hand of Derek and pulled him toward the parlor, where his abductor left the medicines and bandages.

"You need a new jacket" Stiles said as he helped Derek, collecting some bandages and antiseptics.

"It does not matter." He recovered something more important in return.

The boy smiled feeling his heart race and his face heat up. Who would need a higher praise than that? Is there a better compliment than that?

Well equipped, the two left the house and found the rest of the pack on the outside. They then distributed the drugs to the werewolves. Fortunately, no human needed first aid. Even Stiles was already taken care of.

The twins were most affected, but had recovered consciousness. They took a few minutes to complete the process of placing the patches on themselves, because all they wanted was to get out of there and return home as soon as possible.

They retraced the route to the vehicles quickly. Unlike the route to, coming back Allison, Lydia, Scott and Isaac would be with Peter, leaving Derek and Stiles alone.

As soon as the boy leaned back in the passenger seat, he let out a long sigh.

"I do not believe it's over. Thank you."

Derek turned on the interior lights, but did not start the engine.

"Do not thank me. None of us did more than we should have."

Stiles smiled. The other leaned over him, awkwardly, and took his lips in a desperate kiss. The intimate contact conveyed the deepest feelings of Derek and Stiles.

Stiles was lost in the sensations, but not to the point of not realizing that his boyfriend was almost lying on him, forcing him against the door.

"Hey ... hey, man ... what ... you . . . think ... you're doing?!" He slapped both hands on Derek chest and pushed him, managing to break the kiss.

"I'm claiming you."

"Oh-" Stiles sighed in delight when Hale began to kiss his neck. "WHAT?!"

He pushed the man back, shocked and wide-eyed.

"Stiles, I do not want to take more risks."

"And ... y-you know how to do this? Derek-"

"Of course I know" the former Alpha replied, mildly offended.

"And do you wanna do this here? Now?! No. No way! Derek, we dated for a week! Okay you're a werewolf, but our relationship is a normal type. It's early and... holy God, man!"

"You do not like me?" Derek sounded serious. Perhaps his young boyfriend was afraid to make such a commitment.

"No emotional blackmail, please. And no. I do not like you. I like Scott. I really like Isaac. I have not decided if I like your uncle, Miss Peter Sympathy Hale. For you I feel something very deep. And whenever I think of the rest of my life, I have a picture of you next to me. But I had an accident; I was kidnapped, injured, threatened, frightened and depressed. I have not taken a shower since Friday morning and have not eaten anything decent since lunch on Friday. And needless to say, I have not slept more than twenty-four hours. Believe me; this . . . request is the end of my list of priorities right now."

Derek heard the speech, said all at once, almost without taking a breath, and shook his head slightly.

"Stiles-"

"Also, when we do... you know... that... I do not want audience."

The elder did not understand until Stiles make a gesture with his head. He turned and looked through the glass of the driver's side. Peter's car was parked on the side, with lighted interior lights and all members tried to, with varying degrees of curiosity, spy on what was happening inside the Camaro.

Derek growled, grumpy, and sat right behind the wheel. It was then that an alert sound caught the attention of the couple. It was Derek's cell, lying on the car floor.

The werewolf reached down and picked it up. He saw the warning. It was his sister, Cora, who currently lived in South America.

"What the-" Hale muttered reading the text. "STILES!"

"DEREK!"

He turned his cell phone screen so that the boy could see. "I hope is everything is well, Sunshine :D. Send news", was what it said. Stiles blushed and bowed down to glare at the driver of the other car.

"Old gossip!" Said out loud, knowing it would be heard. Peter just laughed and started the car, driving away.

The werewolf changed gear and drove onto the road. The headlights of the twin motorcycles indicated that Ethan and Aidan were right behind.

"You can call me what you want," he said without looking at the boy "And you're right. When we do, it will be right. Just... I do not want to lose you again."

Stiles smiled, thinking the closed expression of Derek really cute, though. Almost immediately felt tired, haggard. All his emotions fell on him, taking its toll.

"It's okay" the boy whispered sleepy, happy. "You will not miss me... and . . . and if it happens again, I know you will rescue me."

"Always, Stiles."

Stilinski yawned, adjusting himself on the seat.

"You know I smell like a virgin?" He whispered sliding into sleep, confident that he was safe from anything bad.

"Everyone knows that." Derek gave a peek to his left, for the boy fell asleep. Happiness and love waves choked his heart. And relief, having recovered something already considered the most valuable in his life.

The infinite possible outcomes to the story, that was one of the best.

How much madness.

xxx

The reunion between father and son was exciting. The sheriff was waiting at home; thanks to a text that Scott sent his way. When he saw his son entering the door, he pulled him into a tight hug, almost desperate.

Stiles just laughed awkwardly. It was not intentional that got into trouble, they just happened.

"I'm sorry-" was all he could say. "For everything that happened, the bus that was attacked. Many people were injured, Dad."

"No, Stiles. Do not say that, son. None of this is your fault."He cut him off, avoiding talk about the dead. There would be time to grieve later. Then John turned to Derek, who had stopped in the door, watching the scene. "Thank you."

"Father... I need a new phone" Stiles tried to break the tense atmosphere. "I'm sorry..."

John pulled the boy to a new and stronger embrace.

"All you want, son. Since you are well". He spoke, thrilled.

The werewolf only nodded goodbye before leaving and leave father and son alone, as both needed to clarify things. Had not had time to talk with his boyfriend, as Stiles slept the whole trip.

xxx

The week is back to normal as far as possible. The school made a memorial to two students who lost their lives in the accident and for which Stiles still blamed himself, even though it was not his fault.

Derek agreed with him about leaving dating roll naturally, without force or rush anything.

What happened, happened.

Life went on until the evening of Friday, when Stiles came home and found his father scratching his chin as he watched one unusual package placed on the couch.

"Hello, dad!" He smiled at him before finally bending to the curiosity. "What is it?"

"I dunno, Stiles. It's for you."

"For me?!"

"No sender."

The boy imitated the gesture father scratching his chin. Stiles went over and kind of sniffed the brown paper parcel. It did not seem suspicious.

"Can I open it? Will be dangerous? A bomb that size would make a mess ... but I never saw a bomb with these measures."

"What have you been up to this time?" The sheriff squinted toward the teenager.

"NOTHING! Why do you think I do something? Most of the time I am the victim, dad. You know what it means to be the "victim"? It means that I'm in danger, I am threatened and taken from one side to the other. My life is at risk, see? You are the sheriff, should know that."

"Stiles-" the man started.

"I'll open it!" To divert the focus, the boy advanced to the package, forgetting any fear of a bomb, highly unlikely given the fact of its odd dimensions, and tore the brown paper that enveloped it.

It was a picture.

"Son-" John raised his eyebrows in disbelief at what he saw. "Is everything okay?"

Stiles could not take his eyes off the image.

"This picture... I think... holy God!"

"Stiles, what is it? Do you know who sent you this? It seems expensive."

"Do you see that, dad?" He went straight to the point.

The sheriff frowned. He had never given much thought works of art. He examined the picture for a while, but the image was obvious.

"A human kneeling, praying to heaven and asking for help. An angel answered the call. Look the angel there with his hand outstretched, almost touching and saving the man."

Stiles nodded.

"It is a message-" he shuddered. "Of Aberline. He is saying that he did not give up... of... you know."

"WHAT?!" The boy's father nearly choked. "How are you sure?"

"This picture is of the Enlightenment, dad." Stiles reached into his pants pocket and fished the cell. "The hidden messages in images should not be taken literally. Not a man claiming redemption. It is a con, the man knows that the angel touch will lose the right to paradise and will be condemned to live next to him forever."

"What?! How did you come to that conclusion? Learned it in school?" John reconsidered the painting, unable to understand how his son had made such an interpretation.

"Internet," Stiles said, entertained in picking up the phone. But before he could dial Derek, the cell rang. McCall was calling.

"Stiles!"

"What's up, dude? Scott, I need to tell you something-"

"What I have to say is more important-" the Alpha cut in. "You will not believe who's moving into the house down the street. 'I'm convening a meeting now! Warn Derek."

The boy hung up the phone, stunned, turning brown eyes to his father. And John knew, instantly, that another mess was starting!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season two? Maybe :D
> 
> Thank you!!


End file.
